


Sunken Promises

by BreakingBailey



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, F/M, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakingBailey/pseuds/BreakingBailey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On board "The Ship of Dreams", nine destinies become intertwined. Nine people's lives are changed forever, as fate serves up adventure and impossible romance. But when a ship like Titanic is built only to sink, is it possible that promises are made only to be be broken? </p>
<p>Titanic AU based on the movie/Main pairing: PruHun</p>
<p>Can also be found on ff.net under the same username</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Scraps of Paper

Seemingly random scraps of paper are not the conventional way to start off a story. But each of the following scraps of paper has a meaning. A connection to what you are about to read.

There is a letter, written in 1911, from Ivan Braginski to his sisters. He's leaving them for a while to start a new job. In one year, he'll bring them the money he's earned, and they can finally start off on the right foot in America.

There are two tickets to Titanic, for steerage. They're sitting on top of a pile of coins and cash and expensive trinkets. They are being gambled for.

Finally, there is a marriage document. It is sitting in a church in New York City. Not yet signed. It is waiting for a certain young girl and the man she is supposed to marry.

They'll arrive soon to tie the knot. They'll be traveling quickly and in style. After all, they're also passengers on Titanic -The Ship of Dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly important authors note:
> 
> A few things before we move on to the main story.
> 
> 1\. I know this kind of thing has been done before. I'm not trying to copy anyone. I'm trying to do this in my own way, so forgive me if you wrote something like this or have seen too many of these.
> 
> 2\. Just in case you didn't figure it out already, this story is going to be fluffy and emotional. And there will be character death. If you don't like that, LEAVE NOW.
> 
> 3\. Finally, thanks for being a nice person and clicking on this! Let me know what you think!


	2. Southampton

Chapter 1: Southampton

April 10th, 1912

It is breezy late-morning.

Titanic is preparing to embark on her maiden voyage.

...

"If you knew that today was your last day to live, what would you do with it?"

Lovino grouchily cocked his head in the direction of his Spanish companion.

"What kind of question is that?" he grumbled.

Antonio simply smiled and gazed down at the throngs of people waving from the ground so far below.

"Hey," the Italian man growled. "Don't ignore me."

Antonio's striking green eyes tore away from the massive waving crowd beneath long enough to meet with Lovino's own.

"What kind of question? It's a pretty darn good one, if I may say so myself!" he chortled.

His annoying reply was coupled with an equally annoying grin. Lovino knew that grin; Lovino knew this gaze. After all, he'd known Antonio for what felt like forever. After he and his brother had run away from the orphanage they'd been imprisoned in, the slightly older boy had been their guide. Over the years, Lovino had seen these looks so often, and he'd become so familiar with every subtle little gesture, that it seemed the two could have entire conversations without saying a single word. Of course, the short-tempered Italian man would never admit that to anyone.

At the moment, Lovino could tell that Antonio was either trying to get under his skin or trying to manipulate him until he said something laughable.

"It's not going to work, bastard," Lovino said, thumping Antonio's forehead.

"Ow! Hey, I don't know what you're talking about Lovi! It was just an honest question!"

Lovino scoffed and turned away, instead choosing to watch his younger brother as he clung to the railings, waving enthusiastically at the miniature-looking people on the shore.

"Don't fall over the edge, you idiot," he said.

Feliciano only nodded before returning to his previous endeavors.

"So do you have an answer?" It was that Spanish bastard again.

"No, I don't."

"Aw come on, Lovi, you must have something!"

The Italian sighed and leaned back, his chocolate eyes meeting the sky, searching for a reply that fluttered just out of his reach.

"I don't know! I guess I'd just spend it doing something crazy. You know, like something I haven't been able to do before. There. Happy?"

"I guess," Antonio replied.

"Why would you ask such a stupid question anyway?" Lovino barked.

"Because…" Antonio slid his feet securely in between the rails of the ship, hoisting himself a few inches closer to that crystal sky. "It's a question that everyone should have an answer to! Haven't you heard that saying…oh, what do they say again? Live every day like your last, or something like that, sí?"

The words swirled around in the heavens for a moment before Lovino blew them off, annoyed as always. "Whatever. What do you know? You're a janitor!"

"No, I am a steward. And a steward on the Titanic, no less!"

Lovino snorted. "Same thing! I'll be impressed when you get us a room in first class."

Antonio frowned and said, "You're lucky I got you on here as it is, Lovito."

"Whatever," Lovino growled, firing a deadly glare in the Spaniard's direction. He hated that nickname and Antonio knew it.

"Well, duty calls!"

Antonio hopped down from the railing and dashed off to go who knows where. Lovino scowled and clenched his fists, irritation searing through him as usual.

"Stupid bastard," he growled dangerously.

The notion came to him that perhaps he should've said goodbye. He might not see Antonio at all, since he'd be staying in the crew quarters and working all day. But Lovino quickly brushed that notion away and replaced it with another. Antonio would surely find some way to visit. That was just how he ticked.

Feliciano, whose arms must've finally grown tired of waving, appeared from behind and patted his older brother on the head.

"It's ok," he soothed. "This will be fun! We're going to sail all the way to America! And maybe things will be better there! Maybe we'll strike it rich!"

Lovino almost smiled at the naïveté of his little brother. There was no way such a thing would happen. Not to mention the fact that they couldn't keep tagging along as Antonio's hitchhikers forever. Lovino was starting to notice how the two Italian brothers seemed to only cause Antonio trouble. How long before he was fed up with it?

When this ship docked on the shore of that other world across the Atlantic, the weak-willed pair of brothers might be doing him a favor if they just set off on their own. But there was no way Lovino would say those things. There was no way he'd shatter his brother's precious bubble of peace.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Maybe we will."

...

 _A bird in a cage_ , Elizabeth thought. _That's all I am!_

She ran her hands gently across the guardrails of this ship; the ship that despite its massive size, made her feel so trapped. What did everyone think was so great about it anyway? Of course, their views were all very different. While others boarded the Titanic to feel free, to fly across the ocean, Elizabeth had been grabbed by the wings and slammed in a rocking iron cage.

_This is just what you have to do!_

Her mother had made sure the mantra was wound tightly around her brain; so tightly, in fact, that Elizabeth was pretty sure it was giving her a permanent migraine. Her round green eyes, the ones that so many were stunned by, the ones that were said to contain flecks of hazel and gorgeous sparkling gold, were filled with suffocating indecision as they drifted up to his. Upon meeting those violet orbs, they quickly darted back to the crowd below. She was reminded by that glance that escape was no longer an option.

_This is just what you have to do!_

She didn't love him. At least, she didn't think so. Elizabeth had never been in love before, but she was pretty sure that this stew of confusing sadness and anger wasn't the stuff of Shakespeare and fairytales.

There were times when she felt like she loved him. Sometimes he'd speak to her softly and gently; he'd play with her hair and tell her how beautiful she looked. It felt almost like love when she sat beside him while he played piano for hours on end, neither of them saying a word. But then there were those other times; the times when it felt like he just wanted to control her. The times when he dragged her around like one of those toy poodles on a leash.

Too bad it didn't matter if she loved him or he loved her, because Elizabeth's mother loved his money and Roderich loved her name. That was all her father had left them with –his good looks, some fancy looking belongings, and a name. So now, Elizabeth was like a shiny new trinket to her fiancé; a possession. A special treat with an interesting label.

The Héderváry family had once been quite influential. Their linage traced back to Hungarian nobility hundreds of years ago. Nowadays, though they hid it beneath their flimsy masks of self-confidence and face powder, they were slipping. This arranged marriage to Roderich, piano prodigy and heir to the Edelstein fortune, was their final lifeline. It would also be the final padlock on Elizabeth's heart; the last bit of weight to completely crush the adventurous girl that she truly was inside.

"Elli."

There he went again, with that horrible pet name. Roderich had taken a liking to it immediately, and Elizabeth had taking a loathing to it just as quickly.

"Yes," she said softly, still avoiding those eyes.

"You don't look happy. What can I do to please you?"

Elizabeth smiled gently. It was faker than her mother's revolting painted eyebrows, and it seemed that anyone should be able to see it. They didn't appear to, though. Or maybe they just didn't care.

"I'm fine. I just don't understand what's so different or grand about this ship. I wish everyone would stop their carrying on."Her foot tapped the deck below her for emphasis.

"Elizabeth!" her mother hissed.

Roderich only chuckled. "It's quite alright. Elli is just a little hard to handle at times. Besides, it's not the ship that matters as much as our destination. When we dock, our lives will start anew, right?"

Elizabeth swallowed hard and uttered, "Right. I can't wait. When we get to America, I'm going to… I'm going to…"

She couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't force the words through her teeth without choking on them. Luckily, her bespectacled fiancé was able to finish for her. He placed his hand on top of hers and gently massaged her fingers. His skin felt cold and hard, despite his pampered upbringing.

"When we get to America, you'll be married to me."

Elizabeth managed to keep her smile on, though just barely. "Exactly," she said.

There were a million meanings behind that single word, but she didn't go any deeper inside herself to find them. If she did, that spark of adventure might start a blazing fire, and of course that simply wouldn't do.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and allowed the salty breeze to tousle her hair and caress her cheeks in the tender way that this man rarely did. She felt her hair clip come undone, and listened for the clink as it met the deck, but didn't hear it. Her world renowned eyes blinked open and scanned the ground for a moment, but the sparkly little item seemed to have vanished without a trace.

"Don't worry about it, Elli," Roderich said. Elizabeth looked up at him, and he smiled warmly. "You have another pin to match it. I'll buy you another set if you'd like."

Elizabeth nodded. "That won't be necessary. Thank you, Roderich."

In all honesty, Elizabeth didn't care that much about the hairpin. It was one less piece of memorabilia. One less reminder of this voyage; her final voyage before her wings were permanently clipped. Her last short days before she was forever grounded.

...

"Come on Ludwig! Hurry up, will you?"

Gilbert had his brother by the arm and he wasn't going to let him wiggle free. They wove through the crowds frantically, their tiny sacks of belongings bouncing against their backs.

"For the last time," the tightly wound blond shouted, "I'm telling you, I won't board that ship with stolen tickets!"

Gilbert laughed and yanked Ludwig past a rich man with one of those funny-looking bowler hats on, and the chubby businessman nearly dropped his luggage, which caused Gilbert to laugh harder.

"And for the last time, I'm telling you that I didn't steal them!" he added.

"Well then, where exactly did you get them?" Ludwig sighed, obviously unconvinced.

"I already told you!" Gilbert insisted. He could see the front of the crowd now. They were so close! "I won them fair and square!" It had to be the one billionth time Gilbert had recounted his story of the way he won two tickets in an extremely lucky (not to mention awesome) game of poker earlier that morning.

Ludwig groaned like he did when he was getting a headache, and the pair of German brothers slowed down to push through the tightly packed well-wishers gazing up at the magnificent decks of Titanic.

"Well… what about that jacket?" he asked.

Gilbert almost flinched. He'd really been hoping that Ludwig wouldn't ask about that one. But the expensive deep brown coat did sort of stand out in comparison to Gilbert's usual garb.

"Okay, this I did steal," he whispered, before laughing maniacally. Then he pushed harder through the crowd, becoming more frantic as the quartermasters moved to detach the gangway.

Ludwig pulled back. "Gilbert!" he said sternly.

"Ludwig!" the albino countered.

"We can't do this," Ludwig protested.

"Why not? Why should we stay here? We have nothing!"

"No," the blond argued. "You have nothing. I have a job. And thanks to that job, we have a place to stay!"

Gilbert snorted. "You're telling me you're actually happy helping some guy bake bread, and staying in that totally un-awesome apartment above the kitchen, without any excitement in your life? C'mon Lud!"

Ludwig flushed with anger, but didn't have a comeback. Gilbert cackled once more, and finally managed to pull his brother up to the already unhinged gangway.

"Wait!" he shouted. "We're passengers!"

Gilbert reached into the pocket of his stolen coat and waved the slightly crumpled slips in the air. The uniformed man squinted from across the tiny expanse of water beneath them.

"Have you been through the inspection queue?" he shouted.

Ludwig looked confused. "What insp-"

Gilbert elbowed his brother in the ribs to silence him. Honestly, was he stupid or something?

"Of course we have!" he said with a smile.

There was a moment of hesitancy before the quartermasters finally reattached the wobbly gangway. Before Ludwig could make any other protests, his brother dragged him across it excitedly. The brunette man at the door took the tickets and inspected them for a few moments, his eyebrows raised in exaggerated suspicion. Gilbert tapped his foot urgently.

"We're passengers, I tell you!" he groaned.

Then it hit him. Literally. As in something actually hit him on the top of his head. It was something small and metallic to be exact, and he scrambled to grab the object that attacked him so that he could ultimately send it to its doom. When he finally managed to get a grip on it, he found that it was only some kind of hair pin. It was shaped like a little flower, and tiny green gems covered the glinting silver surface. Looked expensive. Gilbert shrugged and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Finders keepers," he mumbled happily.

"Gilbert!" he looked up to see his brother already stepping past the quartermaster and onto the Ship of Dreams; the unsinkable Titanic. His heart skipped a beat. Were they really…?

"Don't tell me you're hesitating now?" Ludwig scowled.

"No! Of course not! Why would the awesome me ever hesitate?!"

Without a second thought, without another backward glance, the slightly sociopathic German jumped onto the ship behind his brother.

"Here we go Lud!" he sneered. "Today, our lives are changing for the better!"


	3. Cherbourg

Chapter 2: Cherbourg

April 10th, 1912.

Titanic has made a quick 4-hour jump from Southampton to Cherbourg.

...

An interesting man boarded at Cherbourg. He had a first class ticket and a wandering heart. His name was Francis Bonnefoy. His business was in cuisine. He was off to New York to open a new restaurant –or so he said. But were his intentions really so simple?

An interesting man embarked on an adventure that day. He had a first class ticket, but the other members of his social class often despised him. He was different from the rest.

He was creative, and a hopeless romantic. He had loved and lost, loved and lost, loved and lost; so many times his relationships had ended the same way, but he never lost hope. He'd always had an eye for destiny. He'd always been a magnet for fate.

He boarded Titanic with a sparkle in his eye and a stirring in his heart. He could already feel that this voyage was more than a simple crossing. Francis was setting out on a journey. An adventure that would change the world. Whether it would change his world or the entire world, well…he'd just have to leave that up to fate.

...

Other people might have called the first-class suite beautiful. To Elizabeth it was like everywhere else. It was just another place for her to be confined. With him. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was standing with Ivan, his dogged follower who served as a bodyguard, a butler, and everything in between. She quietly watched Roderich directing the stewards, herding them around like a sheepdog as they unpacked his hordes of belongings. Was she a sheep as well? Probably. Maybe she was a special one, but she was still just an object that he purchased like anything else.

Elizabeth wanted to hate him for it, but instead, she hated herself for it. After all, Elizabeth knew she wasn't a simple product to be bought and sold, yet she was allowing her entire life to be mapped out for her. She watched from the sidelines as others made every decision for her, like the sedentary object that she was. The bird in the cage came back into her mind.

Yes, the analogy became more and more fitting the more she thought about it. Elizabeth was a useless songbird. Her wings were clipped, and the only thing she could even dream of doing was to sit there looking pretty. Her hands trembled as she stared at herself in the mirror, tugging at her hair angrily.

_Why can't I just run away?_

...

Great.

Ludwig had lost his brother. How was that even possible? They were on a boat, for God's sake! Then again, it was the largest ship ever built, or something like that. There were still a lot of people out on the deck, but not one of them looked familiar. If Ludwig didn't find him soon, Gilbert would get into some kind of trouble, and of course they'd both have to suffer for it. That was how it always played out.

"Why did I agree to this?" Ludwig growled to himself.

He carried on grouchily, knocking past people as he went. That is, until someone he shoved decided to push him back, propelling him toward the metal rungs at his left. He smacked clumsily into the person that was already leaning over them. The other man squeaked and would've made the deadly fall several stories into the ocean, had Ludwig not snatched the back of his shirt at the last second.

"Sorry," he said, pulling the stranger back to his feet.

The shorter man before him nodded, his eyes still panicked.

"I-It's okay," he stuttered nervously. His auburn colored hair curl bounced up and down as he trembled."M-My brother warned me about f-falling, but I guess I didn't listen."

The German shook his head, guilt washing over him as he noticed how flustered and frightened the victim of his clumsiness looked. "No, it's my fault."

The terrified looking man started to back away slowly. "No, r-really, I shouldn't have been leaning that far! Y-You don't owe me anything at all!"

Ludwig narrowed his eyes confusedly. "No, really…I'm sorry."

The brown eyes of the stranger widened and he backed further away.

"I should go now! T-Thanks for saving me!" he said, and then he was off like a racehorse.

Ludwig shook his head. "How weird," he mumbled.

...

"Are you coming to tea, Elli?" Roderich asked, grasping Elizabeth's shoulders as she watched her reflection in the mirror. His gesture was meant to be tender and kind, but as usual, it felt awkward and forced. Elizabeth shrugged him away.

"Please, just leave me a moment to fix up. I'll be right along," she said with a quick smile.

"Just don't be long," Roderich reluctantly agreed. He left her with a quick kiss to the cheek. The spot his lips had touched felt cold long after he'd left the room.

Elizabeth didn't have any "fixing up" to do. She remained in front of the mirror a few minutes longer, just staring back at her blank-faced reflection. Elizabeth eventually managed to turn and head out the door. She opted to take the long way across the promenade and get some fresh air instead of staying indoors. Just as she swept elegantly out into the freezing air, someone who was walking rather quickly jetted out in front of her, causing the two of them to collide.

The gentleman she'd crashed into had the courtesy (not to mention reflexes) to catch her arm, but the book that he'd been holding was not so lucky. It was sent sprawling onto the deck, and the wind blew it open, flipping pages around as if the air itself were searching for something inside it.

"Sorry," Elizabeth said.

"No need to apologize, _mademoiselle_ , it was my fault," the other person insisted.

Elizabeth studied him curiously for a moment. He was first class –he'd have to be, to gain access to this part of the ship – but he looked different from the typical high-class gentleman. His hair was long, blond, and wavy –messy in a purposeful way. His demeanor was lacking in certain arrogance, or for lack of better wording, snobbishness. And his eyes…they were were smart, but not in the usual bookish way. He was different from the others. Maybe he was even as different as Elizabeth.

"You can let go of my arm now," she suggested, staring him in those thoughtful blue eyes.

"Right, sorry," he said. He watched her. He felt it too. They were alike, in a certain way. They were looking for something; something money couldn't get them. Unfortunately, neither of them was exactly sure what it was.

"My name is Elizabeth," she introduced herself. "Elizabeth Héderváry."

"Francis Bonnefoy," he replied.

Elizabeth recognized the name right away. She remembered Roderich talking about him several times. He didn't like Francis. Figures.

_"Oh yes, Francis. We try not to associate with him too much. He's a little odd. One of those…artist types."_

Francis strolled over and collected the book he'd dropped before, examining the page it'd fallen open to with a smile. Elizabeth was just about to ask what it was, but she was stopped when a familiar face came around the corner. It was Ivan. Obviously he'd been sent to collect her, since he stopped as soon as he laid eyes on her.

"There you are," he said, though he was actually glaring at Francis suspiciously when he said it. "You're supposed to come with me."

She didn't question him, though she wanted to. She was barely able to wave goodbye to Francis before Ivan ushered her away. For a moment, something different had happened. But as usual, Roderich was taking it all away even faster than it had started.

...

"So, let me get something straight. We're sleeping in a room with two perfect strangers?" Ludwig asked.

He'd finally managed to locate his brother, and they were scouring the G Deck, looking for their cabin.

"Yeah, but so what? I hear some rooms are crammed with, like, ten people! Those big families, you know?"

Ludwig sighed miserably. It'd already been a painfully long day. There was still much of the ship left to see, but all he wanted to do was collapse into bed and fall into a deep, deep sleep.

"Look, look, here we are!" Gilbert shouted, rushing toward the far end of the hall.

Ludwig stumbled to keep up.

"Hey Lud, our roommates beat us here! Hurry up, will you!"

He finally caught up and peered inside his tiny new sleeping quarters. For a moment, the face that greeted him didn't register. He had a strange feeling that he'd seen the same person somewhere before, but couldn't quite recall where. Then it quickly came rushing back to him. One of the two men already sitting inside was the one he'd nearly thrown off the boat a few hours before. The timid brunette, who was perched neatly on the lower bunk of the far wall, recognized Ludwig just as quickly.

"Oh, it's you!"

His tone was not friendly in the least. And if the way he shrank closer to the white panels behind him was any indication, he was still just as frightened of Ludwig as he'd been up top. His companion, who resembled him enough to be related, glanced back and forth, observing the exchange, before piping up with, "So are you the jerk that scared my brother so bad?"

The one sitting on the bed jumped to his feet. "No, Lovino, please don't!"

This Lovino character didn't seem to have any intention of listening. "So you think you can just walk around scaring people and pushing them around, eh?" Lovino shoved against Gilbert in order to close the space between Ludwig and him. This didn't sit too well with Ludwig's older brother.

"Hey! Do you know who I am? Do you think you can just push me aside?"

Lovino grunted and muttered something in Italian.

"What'd you say, pretty boy?" Gilbert growled, thumping Lovino on the head.

"Hey! Cut it out!"

Gilbert cackled delightedly and grabbed the Italian by the ear.

"Hey, get off me!" Lovino growled, swatting Gilbert away. Gilbert cackled loudly and tried to grab him again.

"Don't touch me!" Lovino snarled.

"What are you gonna do, huh? You're not so tough! This is nothing compared to what I could do! Hah, hah, hah!"

Ludwig's fingers trembled as the ruckus continued and his patience quickly dwindled away to zero.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Lovino growled.

"You can't make me! You're just a weak little weakling! You cannot escape the awesomeness that I am!"

Feliciano tried to help his brother by saying, "Let him go, really! He just loses his temper, but he's actually-"

"Should the awesome me come get you too?"

"No, no, please, don't -"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Ludwig bellowed.

The walls seemed to rattle at the sound of his commanding voice, and a silence instantly swept the cabin. Though Ludwig had long ago squeezed his eyes shut, he could tell by the lack of protests from his brother that he was still silently torturing his unfortunate roommate.

"Leave him alone, Gilbert."

"Ah, you're always trying to rain on my awesome parade, Lud!" he cackled.

Poor Ludwig opened his eyes and glared meaningfully until his brother finally released their Italian roommate. Lovino's brother rushed over and patted his shoulder gently, for which his only thanks were an elbow knocking gently into his chest and an embarrassed, "Cut it out, Feliciano."

"Now, everyone just settle down! We can't help these arrangements, so we might as well make the best of it. There are no other options! Understood?" Ludwig lectured in his specific "lecture" tone (Gilbert had made sure that it was perfected over the years).

Gilbert raised his hand.

"So destroying his tiny head is not an option?" he chortled.

"NO!"

"I'd like to see you try, you German freak of nature!" Lovino snapped, still rubbing his ear.

"Oh yeah?"

"STOP IT!" Ludwig jolted forward and issued his idiot brother a good _whack_ over the head.

"Everyone just stop this nonsense, or else none of us will ever get a wink of sleep! We just have to live with each other for a few nights! That's it!"

Reluctant sighs and sarcastic mumbles resounded in reply to his statement.

"Am I clear?" Ludwig added dangerously.

"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert answered.

"Sure, whatever!" Lovino chimed in.

The German's blue eyes finally came to rest on Feliciano, whose gaze was now a little more comfortable.

"Got it!" he chirped, a great deal more cheerfully than his bunkmates.

Feliciano slowly smiled up at him, and for some reason, Ludwig had to fight to keep up his stoic demeanor. He shook his head, resisting the urge to return the smile.

_How weird._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story seems so random right now, but hopefully you'll be able to tell when it all comes together...


	4. A Morning on the Open Sea

Chapter 3: A Morning on the Open Sea

April 12th, 1912.

Yesterday, Titanic made her final stop in Queenstown.

Now, only open sea remains ahead.

...

In the early morning hours of April 12th, 1912, two blue eyes blinked open. Their counterparts in charge of hearing had been activated only moments ago, and though the German brain in charge of it all wanted to know what had woken it, the sky colored orbs were met with only utter darkness.

_What's going on?_ Ludwig thought.

Something had to have woken him, but whatever it was seemed to be gone already. He rolled over in his bunk (below his brother, since of course Gilbert would have only the top bunk) and tried to drift away again. It was still dark in the itty-bitty 3rd class cabin, and Ludwig intended to make the most of his sleeping time. It had been disrupted often, after all, since his brother had been coming and going until all hours.

Just as the tranquil world of sleep reached up to pull him back in, the sound that must've woken Ludwig in the first place rang again. It was very quiet. Too quiet, apparently, to wake the others. Sadly, Ludwig was a light sleeper, so even this inconsiderable squeaking sound was enough to prevent his slumber.

_What **is** this?_ Ludwig asked himself.

It sounded almost animal-like in nature, and for a moment, there was the possibility of rats. But no, it wasn't that. It wasn't so much a squeaking as it was a whimpering or whining. Ludwig sat up and blinked, hoping that his eyes would begin to adjust. Finally they did, and he watched the sleeping figures of their two roommates in the bunks across from his. The silhouette on the bottom, which belonged to Feliciano, turned over suddenly. Another whine resounded, a bit louder than the ones before. Was he the one making all this noise?

Ludwig watched carefully for a few moments. He didn't have to wait long. Feliciano thrashed about, and the whimpering sound again reverberated across the cabin.

_He must be having some kind of nightmare._

Ludwig watched with a mix of curiosity and confusion. What exactly was he supposed to do? He couldn't sleep with all this going on, but he didn't have any desire to wake the young Italian across the room. Feliciano tugged at the blankets and sniveled again, kicking in his sleep a bit as he did. Ludwig couldn't help but wonder what he could possibly be dreaming about.

_I guess I should just wake him up,_ he thought reluctantly.

Ludwig grudgingly tossed his blankets aside and slid out of bed. He shuffled over to the bunk opposite his own and stared down at its occupant. Now that he was in the right place, Ludwig realized that he wasn't sure how exactly to go about doing this.

"Hey," he hissed, tapping Feliciano's shoulder nervously.

The only reward for Ludwig's bravery was another whimper.

"Wake up!" Ludwig rasped. He tapped harder.

Feliciano rolled over and scooted away from his attacker, mumbling something in gibberish.

"Come on, wake up already…" Ludwig grumbled.

The little brunette did not open his eyes. Ludwig reached over and grabbed his shoulder…a bit too hard, apparently. Feliciano snapped awake right away, and his first impulse seemed to be screaming. His mouth opened in horror, but before too much racket could escape, Ludwig slapped his hand over it and shushed him.

"It's just me!" he whispered. A few tense seconds ticked by before the German hesitantly removed his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Feliciano nodded, but Ludwig took notice of the fact that he was shaking again. "J-Just a bad dream," he sniveled.

"Well you're alright now. It's over."

"Okay…" Feliciano choked. The fearful tremors continued to rock him, and Ludwig awkwardly placed his hand back on Feliciano's shoulder, as if to steady him. The timid one beneath the covers slowly stopped shaking, and he actually smiled again.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Oh. Well… um, it's…it's no problem," Ludwig bungled.

With a contented sigh, Feliciano rolled over and was finally quiet and still. Ludwig wasn't exactly sure what had just happened. He'd only woken Feliciano from his nightmare, but somehow it felt like it might have been something more than that. As if that made any sense at all. Ludwig shook his head and crawled back into his bunk. Things between Feliciano and him seemed to be growing only weirder.

...

Francis leaned up against the promenade window, glancing from his sketchbook back to the open ocean. He'd been working on a new drawing all morning, but something about it was exasperating him. That girl he'd met, Elizabeth…she had a lovely face, worthy of a new drawing, but he couldn't get it right.

It was her eyes, he decided. The eyes were all wrong. He wanted to draw her smiling. He could get the mouth right; it was easy enough. But the eyes. They were a challenge. Because no matter how many times Francis imagined her mouth curved up into a smile, her eyes never followed suit. She had sad eyes, that girl.

Francis closed the sketchbook with a frustrated sigh and turned around from the promenade window –only to nearly crash into the steward behind him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the Hispanic man mumbled, stumbling to keep his grip on the tray of teacups.

"No, no, it's my fault," Francis said nervously. He glanced down to study the slightly shorter man's face. The little steward looked so familiar...

"Wait…Francis? Francis Bonnefoy? Is that you?" said that oh-so-familiar looking steward.

And suddenly it all came back to him.

"Antonio?"

Both men started to laugh.

"No way!" Antonio chuckled. "I can't believe it! How long has it been now? Must be close to ten years."

Francis nodded in agreement. "And here we are, on the same ship! Tell me, how did you end up here? I thought you were going to stay in Italy."

When he and Antonio were just boys, they'd happened upon each other in Italy. Francis was supposed to be studying there. After he made some new friends, however, he never did get much learning done. Meanwhile, his buddy Antonio had developed a soft spot for two orphans that were a couple of years younger than the boys in their early teens.

"Well, that's a long story. Remind me to tell you later. I have to deliver these now," Antonio gestured to the teacups, "But we have to catch up sometime."

Francis agreed, and the two parted ways for the time being.

...

"You're so boring, Ludwig," Gilbert whined.

"I'm sorry I can't be your constant source of entertainment," his brother replied sarcastically.

How annoying. This trip was supposed to be exciting, but Ludwig had been trying to keep Gilbert close to him so he wouldn't "get into trouble". Gilbert had tried multiple times to sneak off, but he seemed to be trapped with Ludwig, aimlessly wandering the decks with one of their roommates, who was flitting around and chattering like an obnoxious Italian bird.

"Why'd you invite _him,_ anyway?" Gilbert hissed.

Ludwig sighed deeply. "I didn't exactly invite him. He invited himself."

The more awesome of the two German brothers had been confused ever since waking that morning as to why Feliciano had warmed up to Ludwig so quickly. The day before he'd been absolutely terrified of him, but on that morning the peppy Italian was his dogged follower. They were practically attached at the hip, much to Gilbert's displeasure. "Do you think we can lose him?" he asked.

Ludwig glanced at Feliciano, who was a few steps ahead of the two brothers, cheerily talking away about something or another and completely unaware that he was being ignored.

"I'm not sure," Ludwig replied.

Finally Feliciano came to a stop and the group came to rest on a bench. Feliciano continued telling his stories (which by the way, weren't nearly as awesome as the ones Gilbert could tell) and Ludwig eventually seemed to listen to them. Gilbert could really care less about whatever they were talking about, and he started looking around for some way to escape or at least entertain himself. That's why his eyes happened to drift upward, toward the railings of the deck above, where a lone figure stood, her gaze fixed upon the ocean.

For some reason, Gilbert's own gaze was suddenly fixed upon _her,_ and he no longer had the ability to change that. She was beautiful, there was no denying that fact, but it wasn't only her beauty that held his eyes there. She just had something special…something different.

Upon a closer inspection of her facial expression, Gilbert discovered that she looked quite angry, or maybe frustrated. Her greenish eyes were clouded with painful emotion. _What kind of worries could a rich girl like **that** have?_ Gilbert wondered, eyeing her expensive yellow gown as it fluttered in the breeze.

The girl reached up and twisted a few locks of russet hair between her slender fingers, revealing a familiar looking blue pin. The weight of the object in Gilbert's pocket suddenly seemed to grow. Their pins were almost identical. The only difference was the color of the miniature jewels on the surface.

In the same instant that Gilbert had taken notice of the pin, the mysterious rich girl seemed to become aware of it as well. She furrowed her eyebrows and tore the sparkly clip from her wavy mane, allowing it to blow even more wildly in the late morning breeze. She stared at the item in her palm for a moment before reaching back and angrily tossing it away. The pin went soaring over the threshold between them and over the edge of Titanic, outward into the sea. Gilbert smiled as he watched her glaring at it until it sparkled its last, sinking into the Atlantic with a splash.

The girl in yellow saw him then. Their eyes met, for only a short fraction of time, and she quickly averted her gaze. Her quiet façade returned instantaneously, and Gilbert's smirk widened. It seemed at first that the short, wordless encounter was already over, but Gilbert knew better. If he didn't want it to be over, then it sure as hell wasn't over! Sure enough, the mysterious upper class girl slowly looked back, and their stares crossed again.

Her expression was still hard; still angry and pained. Gilbert assured himself that the anger wasn't directed at him, but at something else. They watched each other for what felt like hours. They continued staring for what could've been an endless expanse of time, an eternal moment that would never move on with the flow of the world, until a harsh voice shattered the veil.

"Gilbert!" The albino jumped at the sharp tone of his brother's voice. He was watching him expectantly, and Gilbert figured he had probably been asking a question.

"Uh, what was that?" Gilbert replied.

"I asked you if there was something wrong," Ludwig replied.

Gilbert laughed. "Of course there's nothing wrong!" he said.

His eyes momentarily flickered back to the girl on B deck, but she had turned away again. Gilbert's gaze returned quickly to his brother, but Ludwig was observant.

"You're wasting your time," he said sternly. "That's a whole different world. And I don't want you trying to get involved with it."

Gilbert felt heat flowing into his cheeks, which was strange, as he had most certainly never been embarrassed this way before. "I don't know what you're talking about, Luddy," he said nonchalantly. "Now come on. Let's go somewhere else."

Before the third class posse could move on, Gilbert couldn't resist stealing one last glance at the beautiful girl above him. There was someone else with her now. A man with dark hair and glasses. They seemed to be arguing about something.

Gilbert shook his head and stood up from the bench. "Race you!" he smirked, and then he took off running in the opposite direction.

Ludwig jumped up and called, "Race me where? Hey! GILBERT!"

Ludwig's only answer was his brother's unmistakable laughter echoing into the sky.


	5. Evening Over the Atlantic

Chapter 4: Evening Over the Atlantic

April 12th, 1912.

Titanic is running smoothly, business as usual.

The afternoon sun has already risen high over the calm waters of the North Atlantic.

...

"Won't you get in trouble for this?" Lovino asked the steward sitting beside him on the bench.

"Not if they don't catch me," Antonio snickered.

"I hope they throw you overboard," Lovino grumbled.

His Spanish companion only laughed. "They'll never notice I'm gone! I finished the work they assigned me already! I don't think anyone will need me."

Breeze teeming with the fresh scent of salt-water filled the short silences between them, and Antonio continued to speak. "My job is pretty interesting, you know," he said. "I get to see what the first class rooms look like. And some of those city slickers tip pretty well. Look!" Antonio dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved a small stack of bills. "Not bad for the first day, huh?"

"Whatever," Lovino snapped. "If they find out you're sneaking off every day, you won't be getting any more of those!"

"Hmm, I think someone's jealous!" Antonio sang, waving his cash in front of Lovino's eyes. Irritation pinched his nerves and he swatted the bills away.

"I am not jealous!" he roared.

Antonio grinned, but apparently had enough sense to slip the money back into his pocket. He leaned back on the bench and sighed, "So where's your brother?"

"I don't know," Lovino said. "He ran off this morning with that weird roommate of ours." The elder Italian brother felt his blood boil just thinking about those German bastards! Why his little Feli was suddenly so infatuated with them, he really couldn't say.

"Well, at least it gives us some time to ourselves, right?"

"What's so great about that?" Lovino asked flatly.

The irksome Spaniard reached over and patted his head. He knew Lovino hated that. Said Italian grunted and scooted away.

"Oh Lovi, don't pretend you're not enjoying yourself!" Antonio insisted.

"I don't have to pretend," Lovino grouched.

The headache of a man beside him didn't reply, but he still seemed quite chipper as he watched the late-afternoon clouds roll by.

"What're you grinning about?" Lovino asked under his breath.

Antonio either didn't hear or didn't care enough to answer. Instead he inquired, "Hey Lovi?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"You don't think you could ever forget about me, do you?"

"Why the hell would you ask a stupid question like that?" Lovino grumbled in response.

"I don't really know," Antonio grinned. His smile was playful, but his eyes less so. It made Lovino's mind race with possibilities. Why would Antonio ask that? That kind of question was something one would ask before saying goodbye, and Lovino did have that hunch about Antonio getting sick of their nonsense. But he wouldn't really take it that far…right? "Are you going to answer me, Lovino?"

Lovino leaned back into the bench and folded his arms across his chest, as if perhaps the small ache in his heart would go away. If only he knew why the Spanish bastard was asking. Lovino was sick of dealing with these thought-provoking questions.

"Of course not! How could anyone forget an annoying bastard like you?"

"Really?" Antonio said hopefully, as if he'd received an immense compliment.

"Sure, whatever," Lovino said, nodding curtly and straining to sound placid.

Antonio's smile grew. "Good. I'm glad."

...

It was nearly sunset and the day had been, in Ludwig's case, nothing particularly exceptional. It had been as utterly commonplace as a day aboard an ocean liner could get. His brother had managed to lose him earlier when he'd run off, but after a while, Ludwig was able to stop worrying so much about it. Gilbert ran off all the time. He always wandered back eventually.

After some pointless wandering and exploration, Ludwig had ended up back outside with Feliciano, waiting for dinner to be served. They lingered in a silence that was thick, but comfortable all the same, like a blanket of cozy familiarity. Earlier they'd been talking; prattling about nothing in particular, simply filling the quiet with senseless conversation. The words had faded with the sun, so that with the pale orange glow there came a warm, soft kind of inactivity.

Ludwig couldn't help but notice that such calmness was a rarity for Feliciano, but he had no objection to it. It was a welcome change from the Italian's usual excited babble. So the tranquility went on, for a while, and Ludwig reveled in it while it lasted. Feliciano finally started talking again after a while.

"Hey, Ludwig, come look at this!" he said, peering over the edge of the ship.

Ludwig stepped closer and leaned over to see what his loyal companion was pointing at, but he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. "What is it?" he asked, glancing back up.

"No, keep watching! You'll miss it!" Feliciano insisted.

Ludwig sighed and looked back down into the choppy sea below. A bit more time went by without anything happening, but eventually, a gray and white shape glided gracefully from the water, sailed into the air, and slipped back down into the depths with hardly a splash. One followed it, and then another, until a whole flock of dolphins whirled beside Titanic, leaping from the water in small, perfect arcs.

"Neat, huh?" Feliciano asked.

Ludwig looked up at him, only to find that he had climbed up on the rail and was tilting much too far over again. "Don't fall," Ludwig warned him.

Feliciano slid gently back to the ground. "Sorry," he said with a smile. He paused for a moment and looked outward to the horizon. "It really is kinda beautiful, don't you think?" he asked.

At first, Ludwig wasn't sure what exactly he was referring to. A single look at the sunset solved his problem. "I guess it is," Ludwig agreed, stealing another quick glance at the auspicious orb of light slipping lower and lower in the sky. He was distracted by the sound of the dinner bell.

"Hey Feliciano…" he began, feeling cold and rather eager to go eat some warm food. Feliciano turned with a blissful smile spread nonchalantly across his face in the way one might spread butter over a piece of bread; sideways and effortless yet aesthetically pleasing.

Ludwig lurched suddenly, coming to the conclusion that he'd been staring at Feliciano for far too long. His face felt warm, which was quite noticeable considering how cold the air was at the moment.

"Um, I think it's time to go eat dinner," he concluded nervously.

"Yeah, you're right," Feliciano said. He cocked his head to the side, his expression puzzled and uneasy. He had obviously noticed Ludwig's odd behavior, but since the German had no good explanation for the way he was feeling or acting, he didn't say anything about it.

"Well, we should be going then," he urged. The blond turned and walked away quickly, while Feliciano followed awkwardly behind.

...

"Are you enjoying yourself, Elli?"

The sound of his voice shattered the imaginary wall that she'd built between them. Her eyes, clouded with confounded emotions that she couldn't make sense of, traced the serious lines of his perfectly tailored face. It was always the same. Elizabeth's life was already carefully blueprinted for her by the ones she loathed the most; the plastic, narrow people that came to her in droves.

Her future was a uniform line of balls, parties, cotillions; a never-ending cascade of mansions, yachts, and polo matches. The mindless chatter hummed clashingly around her, like a despondent song written by a deaf composer. It all made her want to scream, to cry, and to tear her own hair out and go running down the streets like a madwoman. But she didn't.

"Elli?" He repeated that sickening name, and Elizabeth smiled up at him sweetly.

"Yes, I am." Her words sounded almost genuine, but there was a hollowness to them that was unmistakable. Of course, that didn't matter. None of the despicable, stuck-up people in the room had the ears to sense the anguished sound of a girl who was having the flame in her soul slowly extinguished.

It was dinnertime. Elizabeth wasn't eating. The salad on her plate looked just as disgustingly uniformed as everything else. It'd probably give her indigestion

Perhaps Roderich noticed the distaste with which she glared at the food, or maybe he'd only followed her gaze and discovered a full plate, but he quickly added, "Aren't you hungry?"

Elizabeth slowly shook her head.

"Weren't you complaining about being hungry a few hours ago?" Roderich questioned.

Elizabeth couldn't quite remember. If she had, then the revolting people she'd been dealing with all night had quickly obliterated her appetite. "I guess I wasn't so hungry after all," she replied solemnly.

Her fiancé stared at her for a moment, his face unreadable, before returning to the lively conversation that circulated the table. Elizabeth managed a nod or smile at the right times, acting as if she, too, was lost in the suppertime chatter, while really she was only lost in the dark waters of her own swirling thoughts.

_I'm so trapped here,_ she thought, putting into words the strangling sorrow that pooled in her mind, dripped down her spine, swirled in her chest. _But what can I do about it?_ Was there any escape from this feeling of loathing, this expanse of sadness larger than the ocean through which Titanic was steaming? _If there is, I'll find it._

Elizabeth watched as the groups of gentlemen and their ladies began to disperse, going their separate ways for the night, and she stood up right away.

"Roderich," Elizabeth said softly.

He glanced slightly at her from behind his thin lenses. "Yes?"

"I…I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I think I'll turn in for the night."

After bidding a few reserved "goodnights" and tight-lipped "farewells" to the other first class passengers at the table, Elizabeth started toward the cabin, her steps small but purposeful. She shuffled up to the door and stood outside it for a moment, staring into nothing. She wasn't sure why, but it felt as if a great dam inside her was about to come flooding over.

She threw the door open with gusto and slammed it just as dramatically behind her. The art in the room that she usually took time to admire suddenly looked bland and lifeless. With a quick glance in the mirror, Elizabeth discovered that her own face was the same. Pallid, worn, deeply saddened. Even her hair, worn high and elegantly styled, looked suddenly drab. Her once sleek, porcelain complexion was now host to a few small worry lines. They were miniscule, and her mother would say that they were easily hidden with a little powder, but they bothered Elizabeth to no end. They were an external clue to the internal battle she was fighting day after day…after day…

Suddenly Elizabeth was crying. She didn't realize it until her reflection began to tremble with the heaving sobs that rocked her body. She tore at her hair, and the perfect twisted little bun ripped out of place, tiny pins flying every which way. That wasn't enough. She clawed at the collar of her gown, at the pearl necklace around her throat. The pearls snapped and burst apart, smacking into the wall, the vanity, and the carpet with tiny clacks.

The ones bouncing on the deep brown colored vanity slowly rolled onto the thick carpet, and as Elizabeth watched them, she realized that she _did_ have an escape. She glanced back up to the stranger in the reflection, the girl who looked as good as dead already. Yes. Surely no one would miss _that_ girl. But maybe, just _maybe_ , if she disappeared, the others might realize that girls aren't meant to be locked up in a cage.

Elizabeth turned and stepped toward the door. Before leaving, she took a final look at the room, fiercely searching for a hint of life and happiness. She found nothing but bland colors and tedious patterns that made her think only of her hopeless future. All hesitation was removed. Elizabeth stepped into the hallway and took a long breath. This was her last chance. There was only one escape, and Elizabeth wasn't going to miss her opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is one of the best! Things are finally about to really get started. Hope you all liked this one in the meantime.


	6. The Night When Change Began

Chapter 5: The Night When Change Began

April 12th, 1912.

Titanic is steaming along with only empty sea ahead.

Night has fallen. Cold has settled.

...

_Just keep a straight face, Elizabeth. Just hang on a moment more._

Her hands trembled with the effort of bottling her emotions as she hustled along the corridors, bursting out into the freezing night air. The wall of cold didn't weaken her morale as she strode onto the deck, even though the emotions inside her pressed harder against the sides of her skull, ready to break free at any moment. Elizabeth squeezed her hands into tight fists, and they shook violently as she forced the maddening thoughts from spilling out of her mouth.

_Don't do this!_

A voice in her head, which was oddly reminiscent of her mother, pleaded.

_This is just what I have to do_ , she retaliated, using the same words her mother had spoken to her so many times.

Tears were falling again, as were a few drops of blood, which poured steadily from the puncture wounds Elizabeth's manicured nails had just left in her own palms. There was no containing the whirlwind of hatred that filled her chest, so she took off running across the decks, letting nothing prevent her from reaching her destination. Her shoulder breezed by a couple walking along the railing, who stared at her with a condescending mixture of pity and distaste.

_Let them stare!_ Elizabeth thought angrily. _In a few minutes they'll all be sorry for it! It'll all be over soon._

Her feet carried her forward, the once gentle wind now wildly tossing and tangling her hair, mirroring the turbulent storm that was raging inside her heart. Those legs fueled by anguish tore onto the stern deck, rushing forward into the shadows until they met with a vault, which was to be their final obstacle before they were forever stilled.

The sobs continued to wrack her body, but despite the trembles that hindered her motion, Elizabeth was able to yank her gown aside and pull herself clumsily over the railing. Her eyes gazed down at the deep blackness of the ocean below. Her heels pressed harder against the gunwale, and her hands hesitantly groped the cold metal behind her back.

_No. I either do this now, or I stay trapped with them forever._

Elizabeth swallowed and glanced downward again. Her eyes traced the icy, blue-black shapes of the tossing Atlantic. The now ominous wind touched her, pushed at her back, and kissed along her ears, as if urging, "Go. Jump. Be free."

Elizabeth blinked and slowly fell victim to the wind's beckoning. Her arms began to straighten and her body leaned outward, broadening her view of the coal-colored nothingness that awaited her at the bottom.

"Stop."

The sound of a stranger's voice carried through that wind, contradicting the message it'd whispered just moments before. Elizabeth's head whipped around, searching for the sudden intruder. He was hard to see in the abstract shadows of the night, but their eyes met just the same, and there was a short moment of recognition.

Elizabeth suddenly felt as if somewhere, somehow, she'd met this man before. Upon closer examination, she corrected herself. That would be impossible. His appearance clearly indicated third-class status. Mother would've never allowed her to interact with such a being.

"Stay back!" Elizabeth warned, "Don't come any closer!"

The lower class stranger shook his head. "Come on, I'm sure you don't want to do this! Now just…come back over. Carefully."

His hand slowly and cautiously extended, as if he, too, could sense the wild hatred gnawing away like a monster inside Elizabeth's chest. "No!" Elizabeth roared. "Stay where you are! I mean it! I'll let go."

The stranger shifted his head so that the dim light illuminated his overconfident smirk. "No you won't," he stated plainly.

White-hot anger tunneled its way through the mountain of other emotions. "What do you mean I won't?! You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot do! You don't even _know_ me!"

The stranger groaned as if this life-or-death conversation was boring him to tears. "If you were going to do it, you would've done it a long time ago!" he sneered, as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth.

Elizabeth made no reply. For some reason, the smile in his oddly colored eyes was fairly calming.

"Now quit being a drama queen, and I'll help you back over."

For an awkward moment of indecision, Elizabeth considered his offer. She slowly wrenched her fingers from the railing and wiped the tears from her eyes. The urgent winds slapped at her back again, and she grappled with her balance for a moment. With a gasp, she regained her grip on the bars, but her stomach was now tossing in rhythm with her palpitating heartbeat.

"You're distracting me," she snapped through her terror, "Go away."

The still unnamed man clicked his tongue. "See, that's the problem. I can't go away now, because I got involved. So if you jump in there, I, being the awesome person that I am, will have to go in after you. And that's gonna be a real pain in the ass."

Inexplicably, Elizabeth found herself suppressing laughter. "T-That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! You'd die!" she spat.

The young man laughed loudly. "Nah! I'm the strongest swimmer around! Plus," he paused for a moment, slipping his jacket off, "I'm a _survivor!"_

"But the fall alone would kill you," Elizabeth said, though it suddenly felt like more of a question than a statement.

"Eh, well, it'd hurt, that's for sure," the stranger said, unlacing his shoes as his moronic act continued, "But I'm more worried about how cold the water is down there."

Elizabeth's eyes shifted nervously back to the water. So if she jumped, she'd just be stuck down there in the frigid ocean? "How cold?"

"Freezing, give or take a few degrees."

Elizabeth swallowed a big lump of self-hate and suicidal thoughts, glanced back at the young man on deck, and spoke. "You…" Her voice quivered at first, so she cleared her throat before continuing. "You've got some nerve. Talking to a first class lady this way. Acting so…so…" There were no words to describe the peculiar, borderline insane behavior of this stranger, so Elizabeth simply shook her head.

The man standing safely on board Titanic scoffed. "There she goes. I should've known! Rich girls –always the same."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "You're either extremely rude or just insane!"

"Hah! Look who's talking! At least I'm not dangling off the back of a ship!"

He was right, of course, but Elizabeth didn't want admit it. He was being aggravating and it was making her feel angrier with him than at herself or Roderich. She didn't know what to say, but as it turned out, she didn't need to say anything. Instead of speaking, they simply watched each other, and a hint of déjà vu danced mysteriously through the air. Finally, he moved, shifting toward her, his hand again extended.

"Now, come on," he coaxed, as if calling to an animal.

Finally, the urge to get closer to him overpowered any lingering urges to jump, and Elizabeth unfastened one hand from the freezing metal. As her soft hand ventured the quick journey toward his, he told her, "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Their fingers laced together at that instant, and without warning, an unfamiliar sensation filled Elizabeth's heart. It felt as if something had greatly changed; as if her very center of gravity had shifted, now pulling her toward this man called Gilbert instead of the endless expanse of saltwater beneath.

She could easily detect everything about him: the calming sensation of his warm hand thawing her numb fingertips, the way the muted lighting cast shadows across his face, the way he stared right back at her as she froze in her place.

"N-Nice to meet you," Elizabeth uttered, finally regaining use of her vocal chords.

_You're engaged,_ Elizabeth scolded herself, attempting to ignore the foreign emotions rushing through her veins. _Besides, he's very strange, and he's rude… not to mention completely **irritating!** And of course he's not even handsome – not at all!_

All musings of attraction banished, Elizabeth's fingers enchained his more tightly as she shifted forward to make her climb. She tried her hardest not to look down, but the drop felt so very far now that she'd decided to live, and the distance between her and the deathly cold water suddenly made her feel dizzy.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply before finishing her turn. She was facing Gilbert directly now, and she avoided looking at his eyes for fear that she'd become hypnotized again. She began the dangerous climb. Her first foot moved onto the bar. So far so good.

_Almost there,_ she encouraged herself silently.

But it seemed that fate had a twisted sense of humor on that night. Elizabeth felt her foot snag the bottom of her dress, but it was too late to stop the chain reaction as her legs swung outward, the ocean reeling her in. Her heart seemed to stop as she snatched at the metal rails, gripping them for dear life as her feet dangled uselessly below. A piercing shriek echoed into the night, and it took a few moments for Elizabeth to realize that it was her own.

She screamed unintelligibly, flailing wildly as her feet groped for solace.

"I've got you! Hold on!"

Gilbert's voice sounded muffled behind the noise of blood rushing past her ears; her heart thundered more loudly than the clamor of a thousand horses. Still, through the fear, she searched for the impression of his fingers tightly against hers, and her brain started to think through its trepidation. She stopped kicking.

"Don't let go of me, Gilbert!" she cried.

"I won't let go," Gilbert promised, though his voice was already strained with the effort of holding her up.

Elizabeth watched his free hand grip the railing for support, and he glanced down at her expectantly. With a long, shaky breath behind her, the toe of her shoe began scraping for a foothold on the smooth hull. Gilbert grunted as he pulled on her again, but it was no use, and Elizabeth slipped back again.

She was aware of her screaming this time, but she couldn't control the dismayed cries that flew out from her chest, which was nearly exploding from the pounding of her heart. Gilbert's other arm suddenly extended toward her, and with a powerful burst of desperation and instinct, Elizabeth grabbed onto him and clawed her way upward with all her might. Her arms trembled but did their job as she hoisted herself high enough to get a foothold. With another mighty tug, she tumbled over the railing, rolling to the side and hauling Gilbert down on top of her. Gilbert stared down at her, his eyes reflecting the same terror that pulsated through Elizabeth's entire being.

"Are…you…okay?" he asked breathlessly.

The Hungarian girl couldn't force herself to speak, so she only nodded.

"Then just let me say…that you must be…the biggest idiot…on Earth. How did…that even happen?"

Elizabeth was so relieved to be alive that she almost started to cry, but she couldn't bring herself to shed more tears in front of Gilbert. Her quaking hand moved upward and curled into a fist before feebly thumping against his shoulder. "Shut up," she said.

"Hey! What's going on down here?" The harsh voices of the sailors shouted as they rushed toward the pair on the ground. Elizabeth glanced up at them as Gilbert quickly slid away, putting as much distance between their bodies as possible. It was obvious that the men had already made their conclusions, however, when the most important looking one ordered, "Fetch the Master at Arms."

_This won't be pretty,_ Elizabeth thought. She was most certainly right.

...

Gilbert shifted his arms uncomfortably, grumbling as they clicked the cold metal cuffs over his wrists. Was there any way he could talk his way out of this one?

_Don't be stupid! Of course there is! And if I can't, I'll just have to fight my way out,_ Gilbert thought to himself.

"Hey! You! I'm talking to you!"

Gilbert's attention was forcibly yanked to the furious man who was screeching at him. Who did this guy think he was, holding onto that poor girl like she was his man-purse? Gilbert almost laughed aloud at his own cleverness. Yeah, this guy definitely looked like the type to carry a man-purse.

"How dare you put your filthy hands all over her?! What were you thinking?"

"Stop it," Gilbert's damsel in distress said, tugging at his arm. "Stop it, Roderich! It was an accident!"

"An _accident?"_ the likely man-purse-carrier snapped.

She nodded. "It was…it was stupid, really. I was leaning over and I slipped."

Her fascinating hazel eyes connected with Gilbert's and an unspoken conversation began to flit through the airwaves. "See, I was leaning over because I wanted to see the…um…the propellers –that's the word! And I just slipped. I would've gone overboard, but Mr. Beilschmidt here risked his life to save me."

The glasses-wearing weirdo exhaled deeply and shook his head. "So you wanted to see the propellers?"

The girl nodded.

"So is that what happened?" asked the creepy-looking man gripping Gilbert's arms. He had a foreign accent –Russian maybe? His eyes studied Gilbert suspiciously.

Gilbert's eyes met hers again, and soundless messages kept on buzzing. This was their secret now; a small yet significant bond between them. "Uh huh. That's it!" Gilbert agreed enthusiastically.

He felt the cuffs unlatch, and he quickly moved to shake the soreness out of his arms.

"Let's get you back in. You're freezing," the snobby aristocrat said, already ushering his little pet away.

The man who'd handcuffed Gilbert leaned in and whispered something to him, which Gilbert could only assume involved The Awesome One, since ol' Specs suddenly turned and shot him a sideways glance.

"Oh, yes. Thank you for your… _heroics._ A twenty should cover it?" The raven haired man glared into Gilbert's eyes, as if trying to make sure that a twenty would cover it.

"Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" the girl at his side snapped.

Gilbert couldn't help the satisfied grin from washing over his face. Maybe he liked this girl even more than he thought. Slight surprise upset the bespectacled freak's face, followed by irritation, and finally composure, all in the matter of a single second.

"Hmm…what to do," the stuffy man mused, staring condescendingly down his nose. "Oh. I know. What if you joined us for dinner tomorrow? You could entertain us with your tale of… _heroism._ Charm us, why don't you?"

It seemed like this was being taken more as a joke than anything else, but hey, why pass up the chance at free food? Not to mention another chance to talk to that girl.

"Sure. Count me in."

The rich man nodded and actually smiled a nasty, sideways smile.

"Good. It's settled then." He wrapped his arm possessively around the shivering young woman at his side and led her hastily away. Gilbert gazed after them as long as he could. Finally, Gilbert turned and chuckled to himself as he stomped away. Ludwig was never gonna believe this one!


	7. The Dawning of a New Passion

Chapter 6: The Dawning of a New Passion

April 13th, 1912.

Titanic is still sailing smoothly. All appears well.

...

Elizabeth took a deep breath and tossed her shoulders back, walking with true purpose. She felt different on that morning. The sunlight, the morning breeze, and the very air around her felt like a new blessing, as if she hadn't felt them in ages. Her confident strides met the gate, and slowed as that radiance ebbed away just a little.

_Don't be nervous,_ she told herself admonishingly.

She unlatched the metal gate and slipped past into third class territory, hustling downward without a thought. The general room was an unexpected curiosity. Everywhere she looked, something was happening. For one thing, it was rather loud. The conversations were lively and enthusiastic. Children scampered about the edges of the room, chasing each other and shouting atrocities across the space between them.

Her eyes nervously scoured the room for her target. At first, all she met were the dumbfounded stares of unfamiliar eyes, but finally she saw him. He wasn't facing her, but the color of his hair was all Elizabeth needed to identify her late-night rescuer. Now there was the problem of getting his attention in the midst of all this chaos.

"Um," she dared utter a word.

The person sitting next to Gilbert, a sturdily built blond man, noticed her before the one whose attention she vied for. His blue eyes widened, and Gilbert must have noticed his expression, because he traced his comrade's stare to the girl waiting for his gaze.

When their eyes met, Elizabeth couldn't help a little smile. Newfound confidence again danced through her chest, and her renewed center of gravity yanked her toward him. Gilbert returned her soft smile with a cheeky smirk of his own, and quickly rose from his chair to meet her.

"Hello, Gilbert," Elizabeth said.

"Hello again!" Gilbert chirped.

He seemed to be in quite the good mood.

"Could I speak to you in private?" Elizabeth requested, nervously glancing at the flabbergasted blond still in his seat, hanging on their every word.

"Yeah, sure," Gilbert replied casually.

For some reason, his placid tone irritated Elizabeth, but she didn't say anything.

"After you," Gilbert grinned, motioning upward. Elizabeth only nodded as she ascended back onto the deck. The mismatched pair began to stroll together awkwardly, and a few inconsiderate passersby had the nerve to shoot strange looks in their direction.

"So…you got a name or what, girly?" Gilbert asked.

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Héderváry."

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. "That's quite a mouthful! Mind if I call you-"

"You may _not_ call me Elli!"

Gilbert blinked in surprise. "Oh. Well…I wasn't gonna say that anyway."

"I don't like pet names," Elizabeth quipped fiercely.

"You'll like mine! They're pretty awesome!"

"I absolutely won't!" Elizabeth argued. The subject of being nicknamed surfaced unwanted feelings and tested her patience.

"Are you _sure_ you don't wanna hear it?"

"I'm quite sure!"

"I'm gonna say it anyways!" Gilbert cackled.

"You better not."

"I was gonna say Liza."

Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath. _Liza._ Why did she like the way that word sounded? Why did his nickname, out of all the monikers she'd received throughout her life, have to be the only one that she could handle? She liked it. She actually liked it! Elizabeth didn't want to admit it. Resigning that fact would be like admitting defeat. It'd be much too embarrassing after her outburst.

"I don't like pet names," she insisted, though her voice was softer and lacking in conviction. Gilbert picked up on her change of tone instantly.

"Of course you don't," he chuckled sarcastically.

There was an awkward, silent road-bump in the flow of conversation. Elizabeth picked up, deciding she might as well get all the embarrassment out of the way. "Mr. Beilschmidt, I-"

"Gilbert."

Elizabeth twitched at the interruption, but continued her sentence without too much of a pause. _"Gilbert,_ I feel…I feel like an idiot. It took me all morning just to work up the courage to get down here! Can you believe that?"

"Well, you're here now."

"Here I am. And I want to…I want to…" Elizabeth paused. It was hard to say this to someone who would surely laugh in her face and gloat, if given an opportunity. "I want to thank you. Not just for pulling me back, but for…for those things you said. For being the voice of reason."

Gilbert laughed heartily, which was only to be expected. Even so, Elizabeth clenched her jaw in frustration. A simple, "You're welcome" would've sufficed!

"Well, I've never really been the voice of reason before," the German cackled, "but I was happy to help."

Gilbert turned toward her then, and stared meaningfully. Somehow, she knew what he was expecting. She also knew what he was probably thinking, and it infuriated her even more.

"I know what you're probably thinking! _Poor little rich girl! What could she know about misery and suffering!_ That's it, right?"

Gilbert shook his head and made some sort of half-shrug gesture. "Nah, it was more like… _What could've happened to her that would make her feel like she had no way out?"_

Elizabeth swallowed. It both fascinated and, for some reason, angered her that Gilbert's words had an ability to touch her heart so strongly. It didn't make sense, but she was moved by his every word, grappled with his every expression, and it frustrated her to no end that she hadn't an iota of control over it.

"There wasn't. What I mean is…there wasn't just one thing. It was _everything,"_ she explained.

"And that means…?" Gilbert pried.

"I-I mean, it was them! It was just their whole world, and I was so trapped in it, and I just had to get away! I just had to run, and run… and then I was at the rail and there was nowhere else to run to! Even the _Titanic_ wasn't big enough!" Elizabeth gasped. Gilbert only watched intently, so she continued, venting all the feelings that rolled so aggressively up and down her spine.

"I had to keep going! I had to get away! So before I knew it, I was over the rail. I was…I was so sad and so furious at the same time! They'll be sorry, I was thinking."

"Oh yeah," Gilbert finally broke back in, "They'll be real sorry! 'Course, you'll be dead, so it won't really matter."

He smirked at her again, and as the color rushed to her cheeks, Elizabeth flicked her head downward and allowed the tendrils of russet locks to shield them.

"You're just annoying," she muttered.

A few beats of silence swept them up before Gilbert asked a new question.

"So…Specs last night…is he one of _them?"_

The hair flipped away as Elizabeth glanced up to stare confusedly at him.

"You know who I'm talking about. Mr. A-Twenty-Should-Cover-It?"

"Oh! Roderich. He _is_ them."

Suddenly Gilbert's stare was disapproving. "So is he your boyfriend or what?"

"Not quite …" Elizabeth sighed. She removed the sizable engagement ring from her finger and placed it in Gilbert's palm. "Take a look."

The third-class man looked on in wonder before exclaiming, "Look at the size of that sucker! You would'a sank right to the bottom!"

Elizabeth couldn't stop the overly girlish giggle that escaped her, and she wasn't sure that she liked that. She tried to prevent herself from laughing, but Gilbert laughed along with her and she couldn't stop. It took a while, but the laughter eventually subsided, and the conversation took a turn toward seriousness.

"So…you're engaged to him but you don't love him?"

The peaceful emotion that Gilbert had first caused flared up and boiled until it was anger instead. Why was that any of his business? Why should he care? This man had no right to be asking such a thing! This was another instance in which Elizabeth was both annoyed and enthralled by Gilbert.

"That is none of your business!" she snapped, "And I refuse to answer that thoughtless question!"

"Or maybe you just don't _wanna_ answer it because I'm right," he retorted.

"I never said such a thing!"

"You never said I was wrong either."

"Stop asking me about this!" Elizabeth demanded.

"Fine. But I still don't get why you can't answer," Gilbert sighed, eyes narrowing.

"Get out," Elizabeth snapped.

"What?" Gilbert asked.

"You heard me. Leave. Get out. I've thanked you, and that's all I wanted to do, so get out."

"Are you sure you want me to leave?" Gilbert asked. His expression was still totally relaxed, even though Elizabeth was obviously furious. He wasn't intimidated by any first-class citizen, and he liked to make that fact clear.

"I'm sure," she hissed. "Leave."

"Fine, fine," Gilbert resigned, starting to walk away. "Have fun sipping tea with Specs all day! He seems like a real party animal!"

"I will!" Elizabeth called.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Elizabeth sat down on the edge of a lounge chair and crossed her arms. She was still angry. Furious even. Gilbert didn't belong in _her_ part of the ship anyway. It was about time he left. Why, then, did she wish he'd come back? It wasn't like they even got along. Maybe it was his comment about "sipping tea" with Roderich or something. It didn't matter anyway, though, because there was no way Elizabeth could tell him to come back after that!

Unless…

Elizabeth suddenly realized that her diamond engagement ring was still missing from her finger, and the anger resurfaced, even more powerful than before. "Dammit! That little thief!" she said aloud. Elizabeth jumped up from her place on the chair and ran after Gilbert as fast as she could.

She was halfway back to the staircase that lead to third-class when she literally crashed into him. She heard a clink as her ring hit the floor, and Gilbert stumbled back and nearly followed it there. "What do you think you're doing?" Elizabeth asked. She bent down and snatched her ring off the floor before sliding it back on and glaring at Gilbert expressively.

"I was bringing it back! Just now I was walking back to give it to you!"

Elizabeth sighed and stared down at the ring. They had been going in opposite directions. Otherwise they couldn't have crashed into each other like that. "How could you not have noticed you were still holding it, you idiot?" she grumbled.

Gilbert shrugged, and the two of them stood still, watching each other awkwardly. Elizabeth wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want him to leave, but she didn't know how to get him to stay without saying so. She couldn't let him walk away, though. Even if he had been rude, and asked such an inappropriate question, a question that Elizabeth could never, possibly, in a million years…

"I don't know," she said. The words flew out of her mouth automatically, like a type of projectile "word vomit".

Gilbert smiled, obviously quite proud of himself. She was inflating his ego even more. That couldn't be good news.

"You don't know what?" he asked.

"If I love Roderich. I don't know. I don't think I really know what love means," Elizabeth admitted.

Gilbert sidled up next to her, not saying a word, and waited for her to carry on. Elizabeth didn't want to say any more. She was finished with that topic for now. Her heart couldn't take too much of it. Uncomfortable noiselessness rested heavily on Elizabeth's back, and she strained as she searched for a change of subject.

"So…where do you live then?" she asked awkwardly.

Gilbert clicked his tongue. "So does this mean you want me to stay, or what? Make up your mind, Liza!"

"My name is _Elizabeth!"_ the hotheaded girl snapped. "And please, just answer my question. I was only trying to be sociable."

"Okay, fine then, I'll answer. But a better question would be: _where haven't I lived?"_ Gilbert stated boastfully. Thankfully, he didn't want to keep arguing for once. "My brother and I… we're sorta what you'd call drifters. We've been all over Europe already! I stayed in France for a while, and Italy, and of course England!"

"Your brother…was he the one sitting at the table with you?" Elizabeth asked, recalling the shocked look in the man's blue eyes.

"Yeah, that's him. He's not as awesome as me, of course. He likes to rain on my parade."

Elizabeth chuckled warmly at his interesting choice of words. Even though she'd been mad at him only a few seconds ago, for some confusing reason it wasn't hard to imagine being wrapped up in Gilbert's conversation all day.

"Why don't we keep walking?" she invited, the earlier squabble magically forgotten. The unlikely pair began to stroll around the decks, walking and talking the hours away and enjoying each other's company so much that they didn't even feel the time passing them by.

...

Feliciano shifted in his seat. He was getting increasingly bored. The sun was now setting, casting its golden glow upon the glistening new decks of Titanic. Ludwig was situated in the seat next to him, reading. Still reading. Feliciano sighed and looked up just in time to see a little fluffy dog running toward him. He didn't know where it'd come from, but if was puffy, white, and absolutely adorable, so he knelt down and started scratching its ears.

"Aw…come here! Where did you come from?" he grinned.

His question was answered by none other than the dog's owners; a first class lady and her husband. Feliciano was instantly nervous; strangers always intimidated him. He was bullied by nearly everyone he met, after all. People liked to take advantage of his submissiveness.

"What do you think you're doing?" the woman snapped. Her voice sounded downright revolted. "Get your disgusting hands off my poor little Charles!"

Feliciano shrank back. "I-I'm sorry," he said timidly.

As soon as he scooted away, the giant cotton-ball jumped toward him again. Both dog owners gasped in horror.

"Get off," he urged, gently pushing the puppy away from his face.

"Stop that! You'll hurt him!" the crazy dog-lady hollered.

All of the sudden, Ludwig spoke up. "Stop it! You're being ridiculous!"

He sounded like he was going to lecture someone. Feliciano was already familiar with this tone of voice, mostly because of the trouble he kept getting into. Ludwig was always there to fix it. And then, of course, lecture him.

"He's not causing your dog any harm! Here!" Ludwig jumped up, reached down, scooped the dog up, and dropped it into the woman's outstretched arms. Then he plopped back down on the bench, cursing.

"Well, I never!" the dog-owner-lady sniffed. Then she, her husband, and her precious pooch turned away and strolled back to their expensive world.

Feliciano gazed upward in wonder. How could anyone be so brave? It amazed him how easily Ludwig stood up to people; how he could make people obey him. He could protect his friends with hardly a thought. His cold exterior fooled people into thinking he was mean, but just like a hard candy, he had a surprisingly sweet inside. He was kind.

"Thank you," Feliciano told him.

"Don't worry about it," Ludwig replied, trying to go back to his book.

Feliciano grinned mischievously and grabbed it.

"Hey!" Ludwig jerked in surprise.

"I want to ask you something," Feliciano said.

The German sighed. "Okay, what is it?"

"Do you think you and I could be…friends?"

"Friends?"

Feliciano nodded. "Yeah! Friends. You already protect me all the time anyway, and I look up to you! You could be kinda like an older brother. I already have one of those but he's not all that good at protecting." Feliciano paused, but Ludwig didn't answer his question. "What do you say, then? Friends?"

The blond sighed. "Alright, why not?"

The Italian smiled with contentment and handed the book back to Ludwig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter frustrates me because I feel like it's pointless XD
> 
> Hopefully you guys like it?


	8. An Evening to Remember

Chapter 7: An Evening to Remember

April 13th, 1912.

The sun is slowly sinking into the sea.

The sea itself still seems clear.

...

Elizabeth wasn't even sure how long they'd been walking together, but the longer they did, the easier it was to talk to Gilbert. Elizabeth was enjoying herself even though she'd mostly been the one doing the listening. Gilbert was definitely the type of person that enjoyed talking about himself. But in the long run, Elizabeth didn't mind hearing what he had to say, as long as the conversation stayed alive.

"You know," she told him in between some of his adventure stories, "I think you're really lucky."

Gilbert raised a skeptical eyebrow. _"You_ think _I'm_ the lucky one?" he questioned.

Elizabeth sighed. Would anyone ever understand? "Gilbert, I know life in my world might seem pretty great. We have all these fancy clothes and good food and big houses…but I don't care about those things. They aren't what I'm looking for. When I was little, I wanted to run away and do something exciting! I wanted to be an actress, or a dancer, or an artist! Once I even asked to take up fencing! Can you imagine the look on my mother's face?"

Gilbert chuckled and shook his head. "You say all this now, but really you wouldn't last a day! What would you do without hot water and caviar?" he teased.

"You think you're so funny," Elizabeth pouted, "But for your information, I _hate_ caviar, and I'm actually very tough!"

"Oh, are you now?" Gilbert rolled his eyes.

Impatience caused Elizabeth to snap, "I am! I'm not as girlish as you think."

Gilbert took a good look at her frilly gown and smirked. "Could've fooled me."

"I have to dress this way. It's just what I'm expected to do," Elizabeth explained. She felt her heart ache as she thought about all the other things she was expected to do.

Gilbert obviously sensed that her mood was plunging lower by the second, so he grabbed the wheel and made a U-turn, steering the subject back toward himself. "Well at least you had it good growing up. I don't remember my childhood so well. We didn't grow up in the best of conditions. That's why me and Lud skipped town as youngsters. We thought we'd have a much better life on our own!"

Elizabeth smiled at Gilbert's overconfident explanation. "And did you?" she asked.

"Well, we were still poor, but it was much more fun! We've been everywhere, though our means of travel weren't always so fancy. My favorite place we stayed was California; Santa Monica to be exact."

Elizabeth stared wistfully out at the orange horizon. The sun had already begun its descent; so many hours had gone by and yet it felt like only minutes had passed since Elizabeth made the journey down to third class.

"I wish I could be like you," Elizabeth suddenly voiced.

"Doesn't everyone?" Gilbert replied.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh. "I'm trying to be serious!" she insisted.

"I was serious too!" Gilbert said.

Elizabeth sighed. "What I meant was that I wish I could be _free_ like you! I wish I could just wander wherever I wanted. See amazing sights." Her eyes drifted from the softly colored sky to Gilbert's face. "Say you'll take me. Even if we only just talk about it. Say we'll travel somewhere far away."

Yes, suddenly that was all she wanted. Elizabeth wanted to jump up and leave this world behind. She wished with all her might to just follow Gilbert into his universe; to see beautiful places and learn new things, and…even if she didn't understand why…she wanted to be around him. She felt better around him. She felt lighter, as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She felt like she was heading the right way, instead of being lost inside an endless maze of inner-turmoil.

"Okay," Gilbert finally answered. "We'll do it! Someday we'll travel together. We'll see all the famous wonders of the world! We can party through the night and sleep through the day! We'll go back to Santa Monica and we can ride horses on the beach! Sound good to you?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but it seemed Gilbert suddenly remembered that he wasn't finished.

"Oh, but when you ride, I won't have that girly side-saddle stuff! You've gotta ride like a cowboy, got it?"

Elizabeth smiled, trying to imagine herself riding a horse "like a cowboy".

"You mean, with one leg on each side?" she asked.

"Yep, that's the way!"

"You'll have to teach me that. Teach me to ride like a man!" Elizabeth said mockingly.

"I can teach you much more than that! If you wanna stay with me, you gotta learn how to spit, and chew tobacco, and fight…"Gilbert continued to joke.

"You don't think I could fight?" Elizabeth giggled.

"I don't think they teach you that in finishing school, princess!"

"Princess? _Princess?_ I'll show you!" Elizabeth swatted at Gilbert playfully.

He caught her by the hands. "Nice try, princess!" he taunted. Then he let go, reached up, and pulled her hair out of its perfect bun in one swift movement.

"Hey!" Elizabeth gasped.

Gilbert laughed loudly and turned to run the other way.

"Come back here!" Elizabeth yelled. She dashed toward him and leapt up onto his back –one leg on each side, just like he'd instructed. She held onto his shoulders and laughed until her sides hurt as he spun in a circle, hoping to throw her off.

"Get off me, cowgirl!" he demanded.

"What's that, Gilbert? I thought I was a princess!"

Elizabeth laughed with him again, having more fun acting like uncontrollable children than she'd ever had at any stuffy old party. It was magic for a moment, but the spell was broken as soon as she noticed who exactly was observing them. She swallowed and quickly slid off Gilbert's back.

"Mother…"

This wasn't good.

...

"Well this is…unexpected," Francis mumbled to himself. His sketch of Elizabeth was finally finished. He had the eyes right. It hadn't been difficult at all this time, considering he had the real things right in front of him. There she was, finally smiling, finally laughing. This time her eyes laughed too. And because of _Gilbert_ no less! The very same crude, violent, overconfident Gilbert that Francis and Antonio had known all those years ago.

Who would've thought that Francis would actually witness the moment when Gil finally found someone who could tolerate him long enough to fall in love? Of course, the circumstances of their romance were obviously less than convenient. Francis pretended to glance back at his sketchbook as he eavesdropped on the conversation in front of him.

"Mother…" Elizabeth said nervously. "I…I'd like you to meet Gilbert Belischmidt."

The older woman did not look amused. "Charmed, I'm sure," she replied distastefully.

An awkward silence settled over them, interrupted only by the dinner bugle. "Looks like it's dinner time," the young girl said, still sounding nervous. "Mother, shall we go dress?" She moved away like she was shooing her mother out, understandably. "See you at dinner, Gilbert!" she called over her shoulder.

Then they were gone.

Francis smiled and stood up from his chair. Gilbert was too busy staring out at the ocean to notice him until they were right next to each other. "Ah, so has Gilbert finally found himself a girl?" Francis asked smoothly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Gilbert did a quick double take, and then a thousand-watt smile quickly took over his expression. "Francis, is that really you?"

"The one and only," Francis replied pompously.

Gilbert laughed and shook his head. "No way! It's been forever!"

Francis nodded in agreement. "It has indeed. I'm sure we both have had some _interesting changes_ in life since we last saw each other," he said with a meaningful smirk.

Gilbert smiled a little, but turned his face back to the ocean as if Francis wouldn't notice his expression if he turned away. "Don't know what you mean," he said.

Francis moved on, knowing that Gilbert would avoid the topic on his mind all day if possible. "I overheard that you're going to be having dinner with this lady friend of yours," he said.

"Yeah…" Gilbert said carefully.

"And I was just wondering…if you-"

"You already know I've got no clue what I'm doing!" Gilbert interrupted his friend as if he'd read the Frenchman's thoughts.

Francis nodded and smiled. "Of course I did," he chuckled. "Just follow me. I'll see what I can do."

...

Gilbert looked himself over in the mirror. He wasn't sure what he thought of that reflection, dressed up in a fancy suit. Would he fit in up there in Elizabeth's world, or would those stuck-up rich people still eat him alive?

"Ready to go?" Francis asked.

Gilbert straightened his collar again.

"You look fine," Francis added. "Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous!" Gilbert responded automatically. It was practically an instinctive response. After all, Gilbert was never nervous. Right?

"You'll be fine," Francis continued to encourage him as if he hadn't even defended himself. "I've met that Elizabeth," he said.

"Really?" Gilbert asked, secretly curious of Francis' impression of her.

"Really. She's something, no?" Francis grinned.

Gilbert couldn't help a little smile of his own. "Yeah," he agreed. "She's something."

...

Antonio burst through the staff doors and hurried into the fresh air. He rushed across the decks, eagerly making his way toward the stairway down to third class. He didn't have much time before he had to help with dinner service, but he hadn't seen Feliciano and Lovino all day. He'd also managed to grab them a little something extra from the kitchen, and he wanted to make sure it got delivered.

"Going somewhere?" a voice stopped Antonio in his tracks, and for a second he was afraid that he'd been busted. He quickly realized who the voice belonged to, however, and was able to relax.

"Francis," he turned to face the friend who'd addressed him.

"Sneaking off to do something you aren't supposed to?" Francis asked.

"I hope you're not surprised," Antonio snickered.

Francis shook his head. "Of course not," he said. Then he seemed to notice the way Antonio's posture suggested he was ready to sprint, and he smiled softly. "I can see you're in a hurry now," the Frenchman sighed, "But we really do need to talk sometime."

"You're right! I'll see you later, Francis!" Antonio said. Then he was off, racing as quickly as he could down to steerage.

...

Elizabeth stood motionless, dressed for dinner and preparing herself to descend the staircase. Why did she feel so nervous? Her heart was beating so fast she feared that she might faint and go crashing down to the bottom.

_There's nothing to be nervous about,_ she told herself. _Just so long as Gilbert behaves himself, it'll be like any other dinner._

Despite these things she tried to believe, her organs were doing acrobatics as she began to float gracefully down the stairs. At first she didn't see him, but it was simply because she didn't recognize him. Gilbert was waiting there for her at the bottom, clothed in a suit so fine that Elizabeth couldn't even imagine how he'd gotten his hands on it. His hair was neatly combed, and he sported the posture of a genuine first-class citizen.

Elizabeth didn't want to say it aloud, but he really looked quite…well… attractive. He attracted _her_ at least, as always, with that mysterious pull like her center of gravity. She drifted toward him with a smile, lifting the edge of her crimson gown, and Gilbert caught her eye and returned the expression. He stepped closer to her and met her on the bottom stair, where he gently took her hand and lifted it only enough for him to gently press his lips against it.

Countless hordes of gentlemen had preformed this gesture before, but this time, Elizabeth's entire hand seemed to tingle and come alive with sensation at the simple brush of his mouth. The electricity traveled up her arm and into her chest, snatching at her breath before it left her in a short, pleasured gasp.

Gilbert seemed to notice, because he said, in his usual teasing manner, "What's with that stupid look on your face? Isn't that how they do things up here?"

"I'm not making a stupid face," she argued.

"You were."

"Was not."

"Were too."

Elizabeth sighed and replaced her irritated half-scowl with an austere little smile. She hoped that annoyed him more than if she'd continued arguing. If she succeeded, Gilbert refused to let it show. He didn't let go of her gloved hand as he led her down the final step. Forgetting the previous spat, Elizabeth looked around for familiar passengers.

She was instantly able to spot Roderich and her mother among the crowd mingling by the grand staircase, and she made her way toward them, catching her fiancé's attention with, "Darling?"

He turned toward her quickly and smiled at the sight of her face.

"I'm sure you remember Mr. Beilschmidt," Elizabeth continued, causing the above-mentioned smile to wither away into a sneer.

"Ah, yes," he said. His face reminded Elizabeth of someone who'd eaten a rotten piece of fruit. "Beilschmidt…" his disgusted expression softened again into a smile, though this one was more of a patronizing smirk. "Why, that's amazing!" he scoffed, "He could _almost_ pass for a gentleman."

Elizabeth's chest tightened as she worried that Gilbert might lash out at Roderich. Luckily, he responded coolly with a nod and an agreeable, "Almost."

Roderich grinned sarcastically and turned away, leading the way into the dining room. Once his back was turned, Elizabeth was unable to resist the urge to share another smile with the man attached to her arm. For some reason, her spirit felt so lifted when she was near him. It was a dangerously addictive feeling that she couldn't resist or shake away. It was a part of her now.

Upon entering, the two were quickly swept away into a gossipy blur of introductions and chatter. Elizabeth continuously looked to her date, but if he was nervous, he of course didn't make it known. He spoke with as much confidence as he could without being his rude, boisterous self, and the aristocrats, business tycoons, and nobility all assumed he simply belonged there, just like all the rest of them. He fit right in like a piece of the puzzle, and for that Elizabeth was grateful. Still, every now and then, the two would share a secret glance, or an almost-inside-joke, and that reminded her that Gilbert was still Gilbert. He was no aristocrat, no nobleman, and he couldn't stay in her world for long.

...

It was mealtime in steerage, and that meant things were about to get loud and rambunctious. Just as Lovino and his brother were ducking into the common room for dinner, a certain Spaniard pulled them aside. "Hey! Lovino, Feliciano! I don't have long, but look, I brought you something!"

Feliciano leaned in, curious as ever, as Antonio unfolded the napkin he was carrying. A pair of round pastries sat inside. They were covered in powdery sugar and filled the air with a sweet aroma.

"I know I shouldn't have, but I don't get to see you two enough, so I figured I'd bring you a little something," Antonio grinned.

Feliciano accepted the sweet gratefully, but Lovino was a bit more cautious. "You're going to get in trouble you know," he grumbled.

Antonio smiled good-naturedly, which always annoyed Lovino when he was trying to be serious. Instead of acknowledging what Lovino had said, Antonio tossed the pastry at him and said, "I bet the two of you remember when we had to steal food all the time. That was back when we were just kids. Things have gotten a lot better since then, no?"

Feliciano nodded eagerly in agreement. Lovino still stayed silent. What was that Spanish bastard getting at? Why was he down here bringing them sweets and reminiscing about the old days? Was there even a reason, or was Lovino just being paranoid again?

Lovino tore a piece off his pastry, but he didn't put it in his mouth. He stared down at the two broken halves of the little cake, wishing Antonio would stop being so damn frustrating and just say what he was thinking!

"Well, I warned you that I couldn't stay long, and I really have to go help with the kitchen. I'll see you boys as soon as I can!" Antonio suddenly said.

Lovino looked up just in time to see him walking away. What was going on lately? Whether it was Antonio's fault or Lovino's fault, their relationship suddenly felt a lot more complicated and awkward than it once had.

What would that mean for the future?

Dinner continued in a flurry of stories and political chit-chat until finally the men were invited to brandy in the smoking room, as per usual.

"Would you like to join us, Gilbert?" the invitation was presented.

Gilbert politely refused, insisting that he had to be heading back.

"Allow me to walk you to your cabin as well," Roderich said, gently massaging his fiancé's shoulders. It felt awkward and rough instead of comforting, and Elizabeth waved him away, opting to stay behind. She gazed up at her guest with a sigh. Why was it that she suddenly wished more than anything that he'd stay with her?

"Do you really have to go?" she asked.

Gilbert shrugged and said, "I don't belong here with the caviar eaters, princess."

"That's _cowgirl_ to you," Elizabeth smiled.

The pair shared another laugh, and Gilbert bent down and took her hand again. The kiss seemed to linger longer this time, leaving Elizabeth dumbfounded to the point where she almost didn't notice the tiny folded paper Gilbert had cleverly slipped into her palm.

She quickly hid her hand beneath the shelter of the table and waited until the German was out of sight before cautiously unfolding his message. It read, in surprisingly legible handwriting, _Meet me at the clock!_


	9. A Real Party

Chapter 8: A Real Party

April 13th, 1912.

The sun has set on another day.

The lights are still glowing brightly down in Titanic's steerage section.

...

While the atmosphere in the third class main room was jovial and lively for the most part, there was a corner in the back, shoved away from everyone else, where the air was heavy and compromising. Sadly, that was the very table at which Feliciano was now seated.

While he wished to get up and join the fun, it would feel too awkward because of the sticky position he found himself in. Ludwig and Lovino were the other two joining him in the ring of thorny silence, and they both seemed to have their own issues that they weren't prepared to talk about.

Ludwig had just been sitting there, deep in thought, staring into his mug of beer and taking an occasional sip. There was something quite serious on his mind, but it seemed there was an invisible barrier that prevented Feliciano from asking what it was.

Lovino was in one of his… _moods._ This time he had decided to sit and grumble to himself and act like even more of a jerk than usual, which was really saying something. The younger brother thought about trying to cheer him up, but he couldn't really figure out how, since he had no clue what had put him in this standoffish mood in the first place.

It was no use now, anyway. He was too far-gone, ranting to himself in a completely different world where everyone was actually listening. Feliciano leaned back in his seat and pulled his knees to his chest, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. He didn't even realize he was doing it until Ludwig pointed it out.

"Are you alright?" he asked, finally coming back to Earth after a while staring into space.

Immediately, Feliciano snapped back into an upright position, as if he'd been doing something wrong. "Yeah…I'm fine. Is there something bothering _you?"_ he wondered.

Ludwig's jaw clenched, as he must have been hoping that nobody would notice his anxious glare. "I…um, no it's nothing…really…I just hope my brother hasn't gotten into trouble, that's all. It's nothing else…" the German trailed away, sinking back into his deep thoughts again.

Feliciano had slept rather late that morning, so he never saw where Gilbert had gone, and didn't really understand why it would be bothering Ludwig so much. Even so, the little Italian was kindhearted. He reached up and patted his friend's shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure he's okay," he said.

The only response he was offered was an uncertain, "Mhm…" It made Feliciano wonder if there was something bigger on Ludwig's mind. It would feel too pushy to ask him, though, so Feliciano didn't say anything else on the matter.

The noiselessness settled down again, but it wasn't long before Lovino interrupted it. "You know what? I hate this stupid boat," he began to whine, thus beginning the incessant complaining that often came along with his various grouchy moods.

"What's his problem?" Ludwig asked, nodding in Lovino's direction.

Feliciano shrugged and said, "He does this sometimes…a lot actually."

"Can't we make him stop?" Ludwig asked hopefully.

Feliciano made a face that was half smile, half grimace, and shook his head. "Not really. Only Antonio can."

"Antonio?" Ludwig's face was a question mark.

How could Feliciano have forgotten? He had barely told Ludwig anything about himself, and vice-versa. He was just so comfortable with Ludwig that he felt as if they already knew everything about each other.

"He's…a close friend of ours. Sort of like another brother. He's always taken care of us."

Ludwig nodded in understanding and then asked, "Where is he now?"

"He's here on the ship!" Feliciano said with a smile. He was glad to finally be having an actual conversation with Ludwig after these past few hours filled with only short, uncomfortable interactions.

"Really?" Ludwig cocked an eyebrow.

"He's a steward," Feliciano clarified.

"Ah," Ludwig nodded, "so is that how you got on this ship?"

"Yep, and I'm really glad that I ended up here," the lighthearted Italian gushed.

The two locked eyes at that moment, and for the few short seconds that their stares were fixated on each other, Feliciano felt his heart jump up into his throat as if with a nervous excitement. Ludwig broke the gaze quickly and cleared his throat. His expression looked a little flustered, which was exactly how Feliciano felt.

"So where do you come from then? Where do you live?" the German asked.

Feliciano blinked and tried to shake off the funny feelings in his chest. "Nowhere, really. I was born in Italy, of course, but right now we just live wherever we can find a place."

Ludwig's expression was filled with understanding once again. "Sounds like we're in the same situation."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

And the discussion ended on that delicate topic. Feliciano started to curl his knees up again, but for some reason, he realized what he was doing that time, and decided he wasn't going to do it. His limbs fell back into a relaxed pose and he rested his fingers on the table, fidgeting with them as his brother continued complaining to no one.

"If it's not too personal…" Ludwig began anxiously, "How exactly did you get into this…position?"

Feliciano grinned happily at Ludwig's nervousness. It was kind of funny to watch the normally strong and composed German struggle to ask a simple question. Then he realized he would have to answer. While his childhood wasn't his favorite thing to recall, he certainly didn't mind telling Ludwig about it. He enjoyed getting to know him, and he hoped the feeling was mutual.

"Well…me and my brother…um, our parents died when we were babies. Our grandpa raised us for a while, but one day, he just disappeared. After that we had to live in an orphanage," Feliciano paused and looked up at Ludwig, whose expression told him to continue.

"It was pretty terrible there. I was small and kind of weak, so the bigger kids picked on me…" Feliciano trailed off for a second, lost in the storm of memories from that awful place. He decided not to talk about it anymore, and picked up with, "Antonio was a little older than Lovino and me, and he had already run away from home because he didn't get along with his family…eh, but that's a long story. Anyway, he was in Italy for a while, and we met him when the children were all outside in the yard. Me and my brother were leaning on the fence, and he was sitting on top of it. We didn't even notice him until he leaned over and offered us one of the apples he had."

"Before he left Italy, he saw how the others were treating us, and he helped us sneak out of the orphanage. We ran away with him one night and never looked back!" Feliciano finished his story a bit more cheerily than he started it, beaming as he recalled all the adventures he and his ragtag little family had gotten into along the way.

"Sounds like quite the…adventure," Ludwig's carefully chosen words mimicked his thoughts, so Feliciano nodded in reply. Before their story sharing could progress, a familiar Spanish accent called Feliciano's name from across the room. He whirled around and waved to the steward who was just sneaking down the stairs. There was someone else following behind him; a familiar face, but not one that Feliciano could quite identify.

"Antonio!" he called.

Lovino turned and glared. "Oh, it's _you,"_ he said.

Antonio pushed past the wild steerage passengers crowding the room and stumbled up to the quietest table around. "Sorry I haven't been able to visit much," he apologized, "but I've been busy."

Then he gestured to the person behind him. "I don't know if either of you remember him at all, but this is Francis, an old friend of mine."

"Yeah, whatever," Lovino interrupted before introductions could go further.

Antonio shot a concerned look from him to Feliciano, who simply said, "He's at it again."

"Well then, it's a good thing I showed up when I did, no?" the Spaniard sighed.

"Now if only my brother would show up," Ludwig interjected. "I wonder where he's been."

Little did he know, he was just about to find out.

...

After what seemed like forever, (though it really was only moments) Elizabeth managed to duck away from the dining room. She walked as quickly as she could toward the gorgeous grand staircase, and sure enough, he was there waiting for her by that gleaming golden clock.

Just as it struck nine, she began the climb up the steps. Gilbert sensed her there before she even reached the top, and he turned to her with that dazzling smile of his; Elizabeth couldn't deny that it excited her senses.

"So…you wanna go to a _real_ party?" he asked.

Elizabeth wasn't sure what his definition of a real party was, but she found that it really didn't matter. All that mattered was the thrill of adventure and happiness that she felt near Gilbert. A firm nod was her reply, and Gilbert seemed more than satisfied.

They began their journey down to third class, where the common room was even wilder than before! The very room was alive with the sights, sounds, and smells of a completely different culture. The backbeat of a drum kept time to lively music from the bagpipes, and men and women from every corner of the globe were dancing.

They spun and jumped and dipped and swung their hips, moving very confusingly, but their bodies swayed in time with the music despite their dramatic whirling. Elizabeth would've been easily occupied simply by watching the chaos around her, but Gilbert swept her up and pulled her toward the dance floor right away. She shook her head. Watching the couples surrounding them dance so perfectly intimidated her; in fact, everything about the dance, from the quick steps, to the way the couples held each other so closely and intimately was frightening.

"I…I've never done this!" she hissed urgently.

It seemed Gilbert wasn't taking no for an answer, or maybe he simply didn't hear her over the din of the party, because he said, "We're gonna have to get closer…like this!"

Suddenly his hand pressed into her lower back. When he held her so firmly, it felt as if his hand was a white-hot flame pressing against her skin, setting her senses alight with a rush of heat that zapped up her spine. He pushed her toward him so that their bodies were plastered against each other, and Elizabeth's heart sped into overdrive without warning. A deep rosy color blossomed in the apples of her cheeks, and she avoided Gilbert's eyes, fearing he'd see how his simple movement had rattled her so much.

Their faces were so close they could feel each other's breath, which only heated up the air that much more. Elizabeth worried she was starting to sweat, but was instantly distracted when Gilbert began to move. He launched them into action by lightly bouncing up and down, moving side to side, imitating the others. Elizabeth struggled to follow.

"Gilbert, I told you, I don't know this dance!" she insisted.

"Neither do I, but if you follow me, it'll turn out fine!" Gilbert said, obviously relaxed.

Elizabeth found herself smiling after that, and tried to put a little more spirit behind her movements. Gilbert must've noticed her concentration, because he told her, "Just don't think about it!"

Elizabeth broke into laughter, and her feet seemed to move on their own, carrying her in sync with both Gilbert and the music. The couple pranced from one side to the other and back again, and the entire time, a thrilled smile never left Elizabeth's face.

Before she knew it, Gilbert was dragging her toward the table on which several other dancers had already climbed. Gaggles of onlookers urged them ahead with cheers and shouts, and though Elizabeth resisted at first, Gilbert got her up there anyway.

Elizabeth watched as Gilbert and the other dancers around her moved to the beat of the music, making complicated dance steps look as easy as breathing. "Come on Elizabeth! Don't just stand there!" Gilbert said. And instead of being afraid, she figured: why not? So with another blissful smile and laugh, she let her feet work on their own again, and discovered that this little jig wasn't as hard as it looked.

"Is that all you've got?" Gilbert provoked. He stepped back from her and started to dance again.

"You're on!" Elizabeth snickered.

The surrounding passengers clapped and prompted her on as she continued for a while, glancing back at Gilbert every few seconds until his steps finally faltered. "Getting tired?" she teased.

"Come on, you know me! Of course not!" Gilbert replied. He reached out and took her by both hands. Without missing a beat, Gilbert's dance went from a solo routine to a nonsensical duet, which consisted mostly of spinning. The couple began to whirl faster and faster until it was clear that if either were to let go, they'd go crashing to the ground.

"You better not let go of me!" Elizabeth warned.

"Same goes for you!" Gilbert chortled.

A few dizzying seconds later, Gilbert and Elizabeth started to slow down, stumbling and falling over themselves in laughter as their ridiculous dance performance came to an end.

"Gilbert!" an angry voice called.

Gilbert paused to search for the person pursuing him. He didn't have to look any further than the red-faced blond standing by the table, arms crossed, his very expression demanding an explanation.

"Oh shit," Gilbert muttered, "it's my brother."

"What do we do?" Elizabeth giggled, still on a high from the way her blood was pumping.

"I think we're gonna play a little game called…hide and stay away from Ludwig!"

He snatched her arm and pulled them down from the table, and they were dashing in the other direction, laughing so hard they could scarcely breathe.

"Gilbert! Hey, wait!" Ludwig called.

He climbed up and slid across the table, right on their tails.

Gilbert did another quick scope of the room and spotted an opening.

"This way!" he shouted, yanking them right in the path of some men carrying drinks. They narrowly avoided crashing into them, and on their way past, Gilbert snatched the mugs off of their tray.

"Thank you!" he called over his shoulder as the pair of runaways galloped on by. Ludwig crashed into the befuddled men who'd lost their drinks, and his brother laughed even harder.

"Come on, keep going Elizabeth!" Gilbert urged.

"Liza!" she gasped, still breathless from the laughing and excitement.

Gilbert's bigheaded smirk widened and he asked, "What was that?"

"I…I want you to call me Liza!" she admitted.

Gilbert folded his arms and offered a self-satisfied, "I knew you'd love it all along!"

What he didn't know, or rather what he'd forgotten, was that Ludwig was still after them.

"Gilbert!" he repeated.

"Oh, yeah, get going!" Gilbert pushed Elizabeth toward the staircase, and they were flying up it before the newly dubbed Liza knew what was happening.

"Go, go, go!" Gilbert repeated the word like his new mantra as he shoved his date upward and out onto the deck, where they dashed around a corner and finally stopped to catch their breath.

"Here…take one…" Gilbert gulped, sloshing the stolen mugs around.

Liza grabbed one and chugged it gratefully, while Gilbert watched with a skeptical expression that almost made her choke with laughter.

"What's with that stupid look on your face? Isn't this how they do things down here?" she mocked.

Gilbert took a big swallow and stared at her again in the same agnostic way.

"Don't look at me like that!" she groaned, "I bet I could out-drink you with my hands tied behind my back!"

The albino scoffed and quickly downed the rest of his drink. "Like hell! You forget, I'm German! Beer flows in my _veins!"_

Before Elizabeth could think of a snappy response, another beer-blooded man rounded the corner, looking even more bent out of shape than before. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder.

"You have a lot of explaining to do!" he growled. Then he caught another glimpse of Elizabeth, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "And…um...who's this?"

Gilbert slung his arm around her casually, unaware of the crazy emotions his every touch stirred up. "This is Liza! She came down here to learn what a good party is all about…but I think we were just leaving, right?"

Gilbert gave a little squeeze to make sure Liza knew that she was to agree.

"Yes, um, actually I'm a bit tired. So if you'll excuse us."

Gilbert brushed past his brother, narrowly avoiding one of his awful lectures, as he sadly had to walk Elizabeth back up to her first class prison chamber.

...

"Lovi, tell me what's bothering you," Antonio requested.

"It's damn cold out here, that's what's bothering me!" Lovino said, referring to the fact that Antonio had dragged him outside for some solitude.

The Spaniard groaned and tugged at his hair in frustration. It had been a while since Lovino had acted like this, and Antonio hated it. When he got into this mood, that baffling little Italian wouldn't open up to anyone about what was wrong, but he expected his problems to be fixed anyway!

"I can't help you if you don't tell me," Antonio tempted.

"Good. I don't want your help. I don't need it. I'm just in a bad mood, dammit. Can we go inside now?"

Without waiting for an answer, Lovino whirled around and tried to head back down into the common room. Antonio clutched his arm and pulled him back.

"You can't go back in there until you tell me. You said one time that talking about it makes you feel better!"

"Liar. I would never say that."

"I know. I just thought it was worth a try."

Lovino huffed, "Not funny, you bastard."

Then both of them just stood there watching each other. Their breath, turned to mist because of the freezing air, was the only thing keeping them company out on deck. Everyone else was sensible enough to head back inside during weather like this.

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Antonio groaned.

"Same to you!"Lovino snapped, seemingly without even giving it a thought.

"So…it's me, then? Something I've done?" Antonio realized.

Lovino stared at the ground and uttered, "No."

But Antonio was no idiot, no matter how many times Lovino accused him of being one. "Yes it is. I've done something that made you mad. Tell me."

Lovino bit his lip and shook his head back and forth, insisting, "It's nothing!"

Antonio, fed up with sitting around wondering what was going on inside Lovino's mind, leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders. "Why can't you just say it?" he pleaded.

"Because!" Lovino shouted, surprising Antonio with the emotion in his voice. There was a long patch of dead air between them, and it was only then that Antonio noticed how close the two of them were. His face felt warm at the recognition, and he pulled away quickly. Then he wondered why it mattered.

"B-Because…" Lovino was really trying, or at least he seemed to be. "I…I don't know. I don't know what's wrong, but things feel different now, and I can't tell if that's good or bad or what! I don't know anything, so stop asking me!"

And that was the end of it. Lovino ran off after that, toward who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. Worst of all, Antonio couldn't even follow him. The only thing he could manage to do was stand there in the frigid stillness of night and let confusion overtake his mind until everything was swallowed up except for a bewildered numbness and the question with a trillion answers: "Why?"

Why was Lovino feeling this way? Why would he wait until he was about to explode before he brought it up? And why did Antonio somehow understand those feelings he was describing?

"Lovi?" Antonio called into the bitterly cold night. "Lovino? Where are you?"

It was no use. Even if Lovino was nearby, he wouldn't answer now. He was embarrassed and upset. No telling where he'd go. Antonio had to find him.

...

Antonio ushered Feliciano and Francis into the freezing night, looking hastily from left to right every few seconds. "I'm really worried about what he might do. He seemed upset, and I don't want him getting into trouble," the Spaniard mumbled. "You two head that way, I'll go this way." Then, before Feliciano could say a word, Antonio rushed off in search of his brother.

Francis laughed lightly. "Don't worry too much about Lovino," he said. "With Antonio around, he'll be alright." The Frenchman smiled as if he knew something no one else did, and Feliciano frankly believed that was true.

He vaguely remembered Francis from years ago, and after meeting him again, he could tell that Francis didn't miss a beat. He picked up on everything –even subtle things no one else noticed. Francis didn't have anything to add after that mysterious statement, though. In fact, he didn't even walk off to look for Lovino. He just stood in one spot, looking up at the stars. Feliciano slowly followed his gaze.

"Beautiful, no?" Francis said.

"Yeah," Feliciano agreed. He'd always loved the night sky; there was just something magical about those brilliant blinking stars that covered the heavens when the sun went down.

Suddenly Feliciano saw something shoot past; a streak of white luminescence dancing across the sky. "A shooting star," he whispered.

"Do you have a wish for it?" Francis asked.

Feliciano thought about it for a moment. Yes, he did have a wish. Of course he had a wish. But like most wishes, it was for something that could never really happen. "I guess so," he said sadly. "But it's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," Francis responded quickly.

Normally Feliciano would've agreed in a second, but he was starting to appreciate that maybe some things really were unmanageable.

"Some wishes are just harder to make come true," Francis continued. "You have to work for it."

Feliciano felt his heartbeat quicken at the thought of his dream becoming truth. "I don't know about that," he said nervously.

"It's true. Trust me. Wishes that seem impossible just take a little more effort!" Francis encouraged.

"But…what if I'm not sure what to do?" Feliciano asked earnestly. He really wasn't sure how to go about "making" his wish come true.

Francis gently placed his hand on the little Italian's shoulder. "Well…maybe take a leap of faith. You could just go ahead and tell him how you feel."

It took a few seconds for Feliciano to remember that he hadn't actually told Francis what his wish was, but by the time he thought about it, the Frenchman was already walking away.

"W-Wait!" Feliciano stuttered. He felt his face get hotter even in the glacial temperatures. Was his affection for Ludwig really that obvious? "H-How did you know-"

"Tell Antonio I said goodnight!" Francis called as if he hadn't heard Feliciano's question. "And good luck with your wish!" Then Francis disappeared around the corner, leaving Feliciano alone with the stars and an impossible wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this chapter. I hope you guys had as much fun reading it. Stay tuned! :3


	10. The Final Day Dawns

Chapter 9: The Final Day Dawns

April 14th, 1912.

...

There was nothing right on that morning. There are those who claim it was a date like any other, but such is not the truth. The very sea breeze that often whispered so calmly and blissfully during days past suddenly dropped a few deathly degrees. It sneaked down, slithering stealthily into Titanic's most inner reaches, uttering words of warning that were lost on the ears of the mortal. Its freezing breaths, however, were felt in full.

The breezy exhales of a foreboding wind are what roused Ludwig from his sleep. The cold shook him awake.

The wind continued its endeavors, sliding its freezing tendrils up and around an Italian called Feliciano. Premonitions of the tragedy to come surrounded his unconscious mind, dancing within his loosely formed thoughts and sinking claws within his frame of mind, stealing his semi-conscious away in the form of a nightmare. He stirred.

Ludwig was aware of some movement before he understood what was causing it; then there were the sounds. At first, the same whimpers as before. Then, they progressed. More comprehendible mumbles, loosely resembling words but nothing Ludwig could understand. He made a movement of his own, sitting up in his bunk and letting his woolen blankets slide limply into pools on his lap and beside his legs.

"Feliciano?" he whispered, thinking maybe his voice alone could jolt his friend from this restless half-sleep.

No such luck. The tossing, turning, and gentle sleep talking continued.

Ludwig hopped out of bed and crossed the room as he'd done last time.

"Hey," he shook the smaller man's shoulder. He still did not wake up. Instead, he reached up and tugged Ludwig's arm toward his chest, curling up into a ball as he did so.

"N-No," he stuttered in response to whatever nightmare plagued him. He twisted again, causing Ludwig to stumble and nearly collapse on top of him.

"Wake up!" the German hissed, holding a trembling shoulder.

"No…no, no, no," Feliciano continued to say.

"Wake up!" was Ludwig's pleading cry. He jerked Feliciano's shoulder. Two eyes snapped awake, blind, unadjusted to the darkness. Feliciano gasped as he woke: for air, for clarity, for confirmation. He was alive.

He held Ludwig's arm tighter. It was slightly painful, but he didn't mind. Ludwig could feel how hard Feliciano was shaking, and if his tired eyes weren't mistaken, those were tears slipping out the corners of his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

Feliciano shook his head and buried his face in Ludwig's arm. The muscular man tried to shake him away, but it was no use. "Feliciano! Calm down!" he hissed.

The young Italian continued to suck in breath after ragged breath.

"What was it?" Ludwig struggled to keep his voice calm, since Feliciano was both trying his patience and trying to give him a heart attack.

"A n-nightmare," Feliciano stammered in reply, "A r-really bad one."

"What was your nightmare? Do you want to tell me? Would it help?" Ludwig attempted comfort, but worried that a harsh-sounding voice like his own wouldn't do the trick for someone so childlike. He was completely wrong, of course, but he wouldn't fully understand why until later.

"I don't know," Feliciano whined, reminiscent of a puppy as his posture curled inward yet further.

Ludwig simply stood and waited; listened to his breathing slow, watched his eyes stop leaking salty water, felt his grip loosen. "Water," he finally said, "That's what I dreamed of. Water rushing everywhere. Some people were dying in it, but I was okay. I think that was the worst part."

"Well everything is fine now," Ludwig said. He hoped that was the right thing to tell him. "It was just a dream. Not real. There's no need to be afraid now."

The tears started falling again: onto the blankets they splashed, one by one, two by two.

"I saw you," Feliciano sobbed, "You were one of the people dying."

Ludwig blinked against the darkness, against nothingness, unsure of what to say. What was the right response to this? Did such words even exist?

"But I'm right here. Nothing happened to me. We're both fine."

Feliciano nodded, but he didn't make a sound. The two of them remained still; Ludwig seated, teetering on the edge of the bunk, and Feliciano burrowed in blankets, fearfully clinging to the arm that joined him in the warm cocoon. They looked around, mostly at each other, squinting through the soupy darkness.

Words weren't needed, but after a while, two were finally spoken: "Thank you," from Feliciano.

And then there was the reply, "For what?"

"Just being here."

Once again, there was no correct replication, nor was a response required. A reassuring aura of caring and understanding circulated until Feliciano's breathing became even and rhythmic.

There was the almost silent whisper of a question: "Are you awake?" To which the little Italian could not give an answer. With that, Ludwig ambled back over to his bunk for a few more hours of precious sleep.

...

Gilbert sat confidently on the table that he'd danced upon last night, arms folded, legs crossed, insistently retelling the story of how he'd saved Elizabeth's life that fateful night. Ludwig refused to believe any of it.

"It's true, I'm telling you!" he contended.

His little brother just scoffed, leaning back in his stool. "When you're ready to tell me the real story behind that girl, go right ahead."

"I'm telling you the truth," Gilbert pouted.

"Ah, so it went well with that girl? Do tell me more," an eavesdropper's question came from above.

Gilbert recognized that French accent and that mischievous laughter, but he had to actually look at the golden-haired nitwit at the top of the stairs to believe it.

"Is that you up there, Francey-Pants?" Gilbert shouted, hopping off the table, argument totally forgotten.

_"Oui, mon ami,"_ Francis stated.

Gilbert hurried toward him, asking, "How the hell did you find me?"

The blond chuckled for a moment before he said, "It was easier than I thought it'd be, that's for sure. But enough about that! How did it go with Elizabeth?"

Of course. That was just like Francis. Who cared about anything else, when there was a creature of the female variety to be spoken of? The awesome Gilbert decided to give Francis the full story by recounting his awesome tale of awesome rescue. This time, his audience actually trusted he was telling the truth.

"Ah, such a tragic romance!" Francis said. "A flaming, passionate love, torn apart by the separation of social classes and a cold, hateful fiancé!"

Gilbert felt his face getting hot again, which he really didn't like. "Enough already," he muttered, "It's not like I'll be able to see her again anyway."

Only after those words left his mouth did Gilbert realize how much he actually wanted to see her again. For some reason, it felt like last night was forever ago, and all he wished for was to see Liza again. It was a strange experience for someone like Gilbert, who had lived his whole life without depending on or longing for anyone. It had only been about him before. Why was it changing?

Francis started laughing, which ripped the young German from his intense deliberating. "You really want to see her, don't you?" he cackled.

"I-I don't really care!" Gilbert responded automatically.

"Yes you do."

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter."

"I wouldn't say that!" Francis winked, and Gilbert suddenly remembered something about that man; he always had something up his sleeve.

...

Elizabeth felt guilty. She didn't know what she'd done, but the thick-as-molasses silence that bubbled around the breakfast table made her feel as if she'd committed a crime. The way her fiancé was staring at her –or more like into her—was certainly not making her feel better. A nervous hand brought tea to her lips. She couldn't taste it because her mouth was already full of unasked questions and ridiculous speculations. Roderich mirrored her actions, and then, for the first time, spoke.

"I had hoped you would come to me last night."

It was a simple phrase, but in it, Elizabeth could hear many things. Disappointment. Anger. Sadness. Jealously.

"I was tired," the girl answered simply. Her hands fidgeted below the table.

Roderich's jaw clenched, and Elizabeth could see the anger and jealousy dominating his eyes as he said, "Yes…I imagine your little adventures below deck must have been _quite exhausting."_

She was caught red-handed, and the only thing she could do was keep talking. Don't let him make any accusations. Some of his assumptions could be difficult to deny.

"You had me followed by that Ivan of yours? Or did you follow me yourself?" she said. Her words were quick, clipped, and burning hot as they left her mouth in a quick stream.

"You won't behave in such an undistinguished way ever again. Understand?" Roderich said. He never answered her question.

"I'm not your pet," Elizabeth snapped. She was instantly shocked at the repressed fury evident in her own voice, but it was too late to stop the expressions rushing from her mouth like an overflowing river. "I'm your fiancé!"

Roderich stood. His chair rocked. The table swayed, china clinking against silverware and liquids swirling in their cups. For a moment, he was just staring again. His breaking point was near –Elizabeth could see it building in his eyes so clearly that they might as well have turned red.

"Fiancé. Yes Elizabeth. YES YOU ARE!"

Roderich threw the teacup in his hand to the ground, where it shattered into a million pieces, irreparable. No one had ever seen Roderich act this way before, but there was no stopping him as he continued to scream.

"YES YOU'RE MY FIANCÉ! MY WIFE! MY PROPERTY!"

He leaned toward her and held her by the shoulders, his seething words emerging not an inch from her face. She trembled with the shock of seeing her imperious Roderich reduced to such madness.

"You are my wife and my wife alone! Is that unclear?"

Elizabeth's head shook, and she attempted to answer, "No."

She wasn't sure if the word actually left her quivering lips, but Roderich must have heard it, because he released her and praised, "Good."

He blinked several times, violet irises gazing around, finally comprehending what he'd just done. His back straightened and he cleared his throat, brushing invisible dirt off his shirt. "I…I…" he stammered. He looked at her, and for a second his eyes were guilty. Then he hardened them again, and stormed out of the room.

Elizabeth wasn't in the chair after that. She was standing, then kneeling, shaking, trying to hold back tears. The maid was picking up the shattered china –beautiful pieces reduced to ugly jagged shards on the floor. Elizabeth apologized, tried desperately to explain what had happened, to help clean up the mess. The maid wouldn't let her, and offered useless words of comfort that didn't break the force field of terror still numbing Liza's mind.

Finally she fell back, shoulders knocking against the wicker chair, followed by her head. She could scarcely breathe and was further suffocating herself holding back the tears. Liza's head swam as the maid continued her pointless efforts of support, until finally, her heart slid back down out of her throat and the tears faded away. She was really hurting Roderich. There was no other explanation. He never acted like that. Normally, he'd be disgusted by the idea of behaving so brutishly in front of anyone else. She was making him jealous, and she had no business to be doing so. She was still supposed to be his.

_I can't see him anymore,_ she realized. _No more Gilbert._


	11. Heartbreaking Separation

Chapter 10: Heartbreaking Separation

April 14th, 1912.

It is late-morning. Ice warnings have been received.

Who should worry about such things on an unsinkable ship?

...

"Okay, so here's the plan," Francis said, waving a bowler hat and suit jacket in front of Gilbert's face. "You put these on. I'll sneak you up there, and then it's your job to find the girl. Think you can handle it?"

Gilbert nodded; affirmative.

"Good," his blond-headed friend said. He handed the costume to Gilbert, who slipped into it quickly. They began climbing up the stairs, but the albino made sure not to leave without a quick wink at his brother, who looked confused and extremely annoyed once again.

After they were up in rich-man's-land, Francis leaned over and whispered, "If you need me, I'll be over here." He walked over to a deck chair and casually sat himself down. Gilbert nodded and hurried off, positioning himself at an inconspicuous spot on the deck, waiting for his luck to strike.

It didn't take long before familiar voices floated his way. He'd heard these voices the previous night at dinner. Without much time to think, Gilbert simply hid his face by turning toward the ocean and adjusting his bowler hat. He couldn't see the people that were quickly approaching, but he could hear them. One voice in particular tugged at his heartstrings.

The hat still obscured his view, not to mention the fact that he had to keep his face turned away, but at least he could hear her voice as she and the others paused briefly, right behind him. That was his Liza all right. Her group began to move on, and for a second, Gilbert feared he'd lost his chance.

Fortunately, the girl lingered behind for half a moment, and that was half a moment enough. He swooped in, snatching her by the shoulder. It didn't even take a second for her to recognize his face.

"Go, go," he shoved her toward a random room, and the pair ducked inside, unnoticed.

"Gilbert," she said, shaking her head in distress, "This is impossible." Her eyes were painful; so painful and bursting with longing. She couldn't hide anything from him. "I have to go," her mouth said, while her expression screamed, _Let me stay!_

"I need to talk to you!" Gilbert said haltingly. He gently ushered her against the wall.

"No Gilbert!" she protested, but she didn't struggle to free herself, even though she was fully capable. Gilbert's reddish eyes stared meaningfully, and Elizabeth shook her head.

"Gilbert, I'm engaged," she muttered breathlessly, "I'm going to marry Roderich. I…I _love_ Roderich."

Gilbert could almost hear her heart tearing apart as she lied. If he had been a gullible idiot, he would have let her continue hurting herself, but Gilbert was like a specially trained Liza-lie-detector. He cocked an eyebrow, fixed his gaze. He didn't need to make a comment. She knew he didn't believe what she was saying.

"Look, Liza...it's no picnic trying to deal with a drama queen like you. Sometimes it seems like all you want to do is argue with me," Gilbert chuckled honestly.

Liza's eyebrows pushed together, her delicate lips formed a scowl, but she didn't speak because she knew it was true.

"But that's talking skin-deep. On the inside, you're really the most awesome girl I've ever met!" he described her using his favorite word in the dictionary, which was only fitting. Gilbert was realizing, at that exact moment, how much Liza truly meant to him. He couldn't deny it anymore.

"Gilbert…" she pulled away again.

"Wait, wait, hold it right there! Let me tell you…" Gilbert managed to stop her, a billion phrases teetering on his lips. A look in Liza's gorgeous eyes froze them all, and a stutter fell out onto the floor.

"Y-You-You're beautiful –I mean…" a frustrated exhale followed, but Elizabeth didn't move. She knew there was more.

"I'm not as stupid as you think I am," Gilbert managed to say, "I know how the world is. I haven't got anything to offer but me, myself, and I! And while I think that's a pretty sweet deal, I know it's not what rich girls like you dream about every night. I get it. But…"

The next words struggled to leave his mouth. He'd never said anything like this before, and it was harder than he ever could have imagined.

"I'm...I'm in too deep now. Because I…love you."

He gave a second, only that, for the words to process, to circulate through the stuffy air for a moment before he continued. "And it wouldn't be like me to leave without knowing you're okay."

Both of them knew what he meant by that. He couldn't leave Liza with a man who pushed her around. He couldn't let her go while knowing she was going to marry someone who made her heart ache so badly.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, squeezing all the mushy things she wanted to say down into her stomach. "Well, I'm fine!" she told him instead, "I'll be fine."

Gilbert knew the opposite was true.

"Really!" she insisted desperately.

"Really?" he asked, hoping she's say no and throw herself into his arms. "'Cause I don't think so."

Liza's eyes spoke legions; excruciating, terrible legions. Her mouth spoke nothing, because again, Gilbert was right.

"They've got you trapped, Liza!" he shouted, pointing outside, to no one and to everyone. "And if you don't break free, you'll die! No matter how tough you are."

Two tears dripped down Liza's porcelain cheeks, and Gilbert cautiously reached up and wiped them away. They watched each other. Longed for each other. Wished wishes that could never come true.

"No matter how great you think you are…it's not your job to save me, Gilbert," she whispered.

"I know, stupid," he replied easily, "It's yours."

He leaned toward her and his mouth was so close to hers that they nearly touched. That's what he wanted so badly; he craved to feel what it was like for their mouths to crash into each other, for their limbs to tangle together and for them to melt into one, to forget the world around them and simply _be._ Reality stopped him when Liza turned her head.

"I'm going back," she said, "Leave me alone!"

She shoved Gilbert away and left without looking back at him. She was gone before the German regained his speech, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. For a long time he stood there, staring into space. For the first time in his life, the great Gilbert Beilschmidt realized what it felt like to be defeated.

...

"I hope Lovino is okay," Feliciano fretted, wringing his hands as he sat with Ludwig out under the sun. That was his favorite place to be, and he in fact _needed_ to be there at the moment. Being outdoors relaxed him, and this day had been anything but relaxing.

Ever since that awful nightmare, he couldn't seem to completely calm himself. The added stress of his brother's odd, reclusive behavior that day wasn't doing much to help. Being near Ludwig helped a lot. He felt totally safe. Ludwig was strong and brave, and even if he didn't really want to admit it, he was actually a very kind person.

"What about _you?"_ Ludwig asked, letting that kindness show a bit. "Are _you_ alright?"

He seemed to be still concerned about that episode during the wee hours of the morning. Horrifying, painful images swirled through Feliciano's thoughts. Cold water, dark water, waters that buried people he knew and cared for. Leaving him behind while it washed the others away. He shuddered, blinked, and prayed for the scary scene to just leave him alone. It wouldn't go away –not completely. The haunting memory of it was still there, ricocheting though the back of his mind, popping up when he least expected it. It was really going to ruin his day.

"Did you hear me?"

The quaking Italian finally realized that he'd left Ludwig hanging.

"I…I'm okay," he said slowly. Being the terrible liar that he was, Ludwig knew he wasn't okay before he even answered.

"It's that dream isn't it? It's still bothering you."

Reluctantly, Feliciano nodded. He felt like he was troubling Ludwig, but at the same time, he couldn't control the fear that pumped into his system when he had so much as a single thought about that dream. The German sighed and Feliciano was pleasantly surprised when he felt a heavy hand rest on his tuft of auburn hair. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, or so he guessed. Even if it might've been an awkward attempt, Feliciano responded as if it were the most relaxing action in the world. He was subdued by it; reassured.

"I understand. I…used to have nightmares too." Ludwig admitted.

"Really? _You?"_ Feliciano couldn't imagine someone like Ludwig ever being afraid of a silly dream, but apparently it was possible!

"W-When I was younger, of course," Ludwig hastily added.

Feliciano gazed up into his eyes, perplexed as they stared at empty space, remembering. "What did you dream about?" he had to know.

Ludwig blinked a few times and shook his head, then turned toward his roommate with a gentle, tired expression on his face. "Maybe I'll tell you that…some other time."

...

"Go away. I don't want to talk to you."

The words cut like knives; nine tiny yet lethally sharp knives slicing into Antonio's chest. Lovino said stuff like this all the time. What made it better was that he never actually meant it. Antonio could tell when Lovino was being honest.

"That's too bad," the Spaniard replied, forcing his way inside Lovino's quarters. He'd been holed up in there all day. Feliciano had tried to coax him out, but it was no use.

"I'm not upset about what you said last night," Antonio explained. He knew that was at least part of the reason Lovino was shying away.

"Well that's good for you, you damn bastard. I'm glad _you're_ not upset!"

Lovino sat heavily on his bunk and stared at his life-long companion, who was still hovering by the door, careful and apprehensive. What the hell was going on? Lovino had just lost his cool so suddenly, and for apparently no reason. Antonio hadn't meant to do anything that aggravated or confused Lovino. Now all he had to do was convince the distressed brunette across from him of this.

"If you came here to apologize, just forget about it. I don't know why I said those things. Doesn't matter now," Lovino broke the thoughtful silence.

Antonio shook his head, saying, "I know you're still upset. I want to talk about it."

Lovino's eyes narrowed in objection to Antonio's idea.

"Look…can I come over there?" Antonio motioned to the room in general; anywhere a bit closer would suffice. When the irritable Italian said nothing, Antonio took it as a yes and sat down on the edge of the bunk. For a moment, he felt nostalgic, reminded of days long gone, back when they were kids. They used to sit like this together, talking late into the night.

Antonio shook his head and cleared the thoughts away. "Tell me what's going on, Lovino."

Lovino stared at him. His eyes were, for the first time Antonio could recall, contemplative. He was thinking hard. Then the eyes rolled down to the floor, up to the ceiling. He spoke: "I just feel like I'm a burden to you sometimes. I feel like you get sick of taking me with you everywhere. And I don't know if that's true, and I can't tell from the way you act…so…" Lovino trailed off and avoided looking into Antonio's eyes.

He felt knives again. Lovino's words hurt because Antonio knew those brothers needed him, and he didn't mind. They weren't a burden; they were the most important people in his life. Even if Lovino was obnoxious or inconvenient at times, Antonio could never abandon him! If he was doing something for Lovino's sake, it didn't matter what happened!

"No, that's not true!" Antonio said sternly, holding Lovino by the shoulders. "I swear."

Silence.

Antonio studied Lovino's face carefully, and slowly, something began to dawn on him. It was a small idea at first, but the longer he stared, the longer he gazed into Lovino's eyes, the more it grew.

"W-What are you looking at, bastard?" Lovino asked nervously.

And Antonio smiled. _Bastard._ He'd said it, but he didn't mean it. Just like always. The beginning of a revelation continued growing. Antonio relaxed his grip and sighed deeply. "Lovino, listen to me. First of all, you're not a burden and I'm not mad with you."

Lovino nodded slowly as a response.

"And so, I _promise_ right now that you and your brother won't ever be left alone."

Lovino swallowed hard. "H-How can you prove it? What if I don't believe you?"

Stubborn as always. That was frustrating. _Lovino_ was frustrating! He was crude and irrational and dependent! And yet…Antonio felt like he'd do anything for him.

"Because…Lovino…I want you to be happy, okay? I really…I really…"

The emotions that Antonio had tried so long to understand finally made sense, and now that they had a name and a purpose, he couldn't control them. Not even for another second.

"Because I…"

Lovino watched him, but said nothing. He didn't try to push him away. Their faces drew closer.

"I…"

They were so close that Antonio could feel Lovino's nervous breaths as his sudden impulse pulled them closer. He couldn't speak anymore. He didn't want to, and there was no need. He pressed their lips together, lightly at first, gentle and cautious. Lovino hardly moved, but since he wasn't pulling away, Antonio took it as a good sign.

He continued, shifting his arms from Lovino's shoulders down to his back. He leaned forward, and heard a light _clunk_ sound when Lovino's head hit the wall. He gave a slight whimper, but still didn't pull away. Antonio nipped his lip playfully before shifting forward, draping his body more closely around Lovi's. For a few more sweet seconds, the caress went on. Then Lovino broke away, as if awaking from a dream.

He moved his face away, gasping for breath. "Stop it," he choked. At first, Antonio couldn't help himself. His lips grazed Lovino's neck lightly with the hopes that he'd change his mind. The Italian gasped again, though Antonio wasn't sure if it was with pleasure or surprise. "Stop it!" he repeated, and started to shove Antonio away.

The Spaniard complied right away. He threw himself back, trying to clear himself out of the dazed state the kiss had left him in. "Lovi…I…I'm sorry…" he stuttered. What was he thinking, doing something like that out of the blue?

Lovino didn't say a word. He just stared, his cheeks stained dark red and his eyes wide with shock.

Antonio stood up and searched his mind for words, but there was nothing he could say now. "Damn it!" he hissed, and he ran for the door before Lovino could speak.

_What have I done?_ Antonio wondered miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one of those chapters. I did my best on it and edited everything that I wanted to be edited, but there's something about it that I just...don't like. Hopefully it's me being overly-critical of myself. Tell me what you think, faithful readers :D


	12. A Change of Heart

Chapter 11: A Change of Heart

April 14th, 1912.

The sun is just about to set on Titanic's final day.

...

Elizabeth took another step forward. Could she do it? Could she face him again, after what she'd said that morning? The time span of an entire day had passed, and yet she couldn't stop thinking about Gilbert for even a single second.

She'd managed to sneak away from dinner. She'd searched for him. She'd found him, inexplicably. Maybe it was what she'd felt before; her center shifted toward him, and he drew her, automatically, like a magnet. Gilbert hadn't noticed her yet. He was standing up on the railing, face pointing outward at the ocean.

She cleared her throat and spoke, "Hello Gilbert."

She'd done it now. He turned toward her, and his expression flooded with surprise and pleasure before she even said her next words: "I changed my mind."

There was no need for clarification. Both of them knew what she was talking about. Her heart was hammering in her chest and a lump was forming in her throat. She was so nervous that her stomach twisted about inside her, but she couldn't stop smiling at him all the same.

It was undeniable at that point; she could no more resist the urge to be beside him than she could resist the urge to breathe. A few steps were all it took to put her right in front of him. Close enough to touch, but not close enough that the sensation of his body overtook her. She cleared her throat again, grappling with her words. "I…um, I-"

"Shh!" Gilbert cut her off. His face was contorted into that special grin of his, and it was contagious. "Hey, I got a question."

Liza nodded.

"Do you trust me?" he held out his hand.

Taking it would be a "yes", and that was how Elizabeth responded.

His hand tightened around hers, and his grin intensified.

"Well that's mistake number one!" he joked, and yanked her against him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Before she even knew it, her feet were off the ground, and he spun her around once, twice, three times, both of them laughing. The nervousness dissipated and was replaced by pure, unadulterated bliss by the time Gilbert set her down.

When they'd stopped spinning, she was in front of him. The back of her legs brushed the railing and her front half was buried in his shirt. She took in his scent and his warmth until he spoke again. "Want me to show you something else?"

A look at her face was answer enough.

"Okay. Close your eyes."

Elizabeth did as she was told. She trusted Gilbert more than she even trusted herself.

"Good, now turn around," Gilbert guided her body in the right direction, "and put your feet right up here, on the railing." He helped her balance her weight as her feet slid gently into position. "No peeking!" he reminded.

"I'm not," Elizabeth said.

Once she was secured, she felt Gilbert's body slide easily into place behind her, as if he'd been made to stand that way. His strong, warm arms wrapped delicately around her waist, reassuringly solid yet not too forceful.

"Don't let go," he urged, "and keep your eyes closed!"

Liza giggled a little as his words tickled her ear. Cold air slapped against her face, blowing her hair and clothing out behind her in beautiful russet waves. It felt good. It felt free.

"You still trust me, right?"

"Yes!" Liza said with a laugh, "Even if I shouldn't!"

She felt his hands shift and grab onto her wrists. Then, slowly, smoothly, he guided her arms outward until they were stretched horizontally, like a wingspan. Her heart picked up speed. She felt vulnerable like this. She could fall again.

_But I won't fall,_ she told herself, _because Gilbert is here._

And indeed, his warmness was a reminder that she was safe. That she was loved and protected. Then his hands slid back down to her waist, gripping her with same perfect balance of strength and tenderness.

"Okay. You can open 'em," he told her.

She could detect the eagerness in his voice. Her eyes opened, and she blinked a few times to clear them against the freezing tempest. When she could see clearly, they instantly blurred again, this time with tears. It was beautiful.

All that was before her was the open sea, so vast and endless. The wind rushing past her face and the sensation of air fleeting past her body on all sides gave her a euphoric excitement as if no one could ever catch her. She was queen of the world. She was free. She was flying. The bird in the cage, the one that had been held captive and forced downward for so many years, was _flying._ She remembered to breathe after a few moments, and she gasped, and then laughed breathlessly.

"I'm flying," she choked. It was the "word-vomit" again. It was an accidental slip of the tongue, just like the one that had caused Gilbert to stick around that fateful morning.

She thought perhaps that sounded stupid to someone who didn't understand things from her perspective – her newfound freedom. Elizabeth didn't feel embarrassed this time, though. She was too comfortable around Gilbert to feel stupid for saying something like that.

His hands changed positions again. Instead of holding her by the waist, they lifted and intertwined with hers. Her delicate, soft fingers were sewn together with his toasty, rough ones, and the couple flew together for a few moments. Then he guided her body once more. Her arms lowered with his, and he held her securely by the waist again.

"That's what I meant when I said 'drama queen'," he whispered, and she laughed as she stared into his eyes, mesmerized by his gorgeous face in the golden brilliance of sunset.

"Liza…I…" he was going to say something, but the closeness of his lips was just too tempting.

The girl didn't let him finish his sentence.

"Just kiss me already," she said.

It wasn't exactly a romantic way to begin a kiss, but the kiss itself made up for any trivial little statements made before it. Their lips melted together, moving in perfect harmony. The icy wind couldn't chill them; the warmth of their bodies interlocking like two perfect puzzle pieces warded off any discomfort. Gilbert's hand softly cupped her cheek, sliding down her smooth skin, tracing down her neck and then onto her back, leaving a burning trail of pleasurable tingles wherever it ventured. She shifted toward him more and the embrace intensified, burning with passion and smoldering against the brisk illumination of twilight.

Their kiss finished, just as the last light Titanic would ever see vanished below the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I devoted the whole chapter to this scene DON'T JUDGE ME


	13. The Runaway Romance

Chapter 12: The Runaway Romance

April 14th, 1912.

It is 8:30 p.m.

In 3 hours and 10 minutes, Titanic will strike an iceberg.

In 5 hours and 50 minutes, she will be at the bottom of the ocean.

...

"You sure this is okay?" Gilbert asked, shuffling into the suite behind Liza.

Elizabeth smiled and promised, "We'll be fine. There shouldn't be anyone coming back here for quite a while." The girl turned toward the mirror on her vanity, gently combing her fingers through her hair, more of a nervous habit than an attempt at untangling it. She wasn't exactly sure what Gilbert expected to happen during this visit to her quarters. Elizabeth didn't have any particular intention, but rather she'd just invited him without a reason, spontaneously.

"Hey, Liza," she heard Gilbert whisper. Something jabbed at her side, and she turned to see what kind of mischief he'd already gotten into. Speaking of spontaneous.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked. Somehow he'd managed to get a hold of her rarely used parasol. Elizabeth couldn't even remember where she'd left it, but Gilbert had already grabbed it and was jabbing it repeatedly into her side.

Gilbert answered her question with one of his own: "Didn't you say you wanted to be a fencer once?"

"What?"

Gilbert turned around and lifted Roderich's dark brown walking stick from the ground. Roderich liked to carry it around, calling it a "fashionable status symbol". However, Elizabeth told him he looked ridiculous whenever he took it out, so he had gotten into a habit of leaving the cane behind.

"You shouldn't touch that," Liza said, although a smile was already threatening to soil her serious expression.

"So does this mean I win by default?" Gilbert teased, twirling the parasol casually.

That was all it took to convince Liza to participate. "Fine. Give me that," she requested, holding out her hand.

Gilbert placed the walking stick in her palm and took a step back. "En garde!" he exclaimed in what Elizabeth assumed was supposed to be a French accent. Then he immediately lunged forward. He would've jabbed her right in the stomach, but Elizabeth was able to dodge his attack by a hair.

She took a quick step forward and swung the cane at him. The wooden walking stick clattered against the parasol and Gilbert's weapon of choice dropped to the floor. "Aha!" Liza gasped excitedly. Her success lasted only for a moment, because the distraction caused by her small victory allowed Gilbert an opening. He grabbed the other end of the cane, yanked, and Elizabeth tumbled forward. Her body was plastered against his again, and she tried to hide her racing heartbeat by asking, "So who wins?"

Gilbert pressed his lips gently to her forehead and Elizabeth closed her eyes to let the warmth of that kiss sink in.

Then Liza felt him pull the cane again, very suddenly, and it was completely torn from her grip. "Looks like I do," he said.

Liza laughed and coiled her arms around him, holding him fast. "Cheater," she whispered as she pushed forward with all her strength, sending Gilbert backwards. Both of them crashed down onto the bed, smothered in a cloud of ecstasy as they rolled over, fencing match long forgotten, to stare at each other across the velvety bedspread.

They didn't say anything; their eyes did all the talking for them. Gilbert lifted his hand and ran his thumb slowly, carefully, down Elizabeth's cheek. Her heart started to race as his hand drifted into her hair, twirling the shiny strands delicately around his fingers. His admiring gaze made Elizabeth feel more beautiful than a thousand of Roderich's obligatory compliments ever could.

She lifted her own hand up to grasp his and guided it toward her shoulder, sliding closer at the same time. In that one graceful movement, Gilbert also brought himself closer to her, so that his arm could slide effortlessly around Liza's back. He held himself in that position, close enough for their noses to touch just a little. And at that time, both of them wished for only one thing; to be able to hold that moment still, in freeze frame. They wished to stay there forever, and let the rest of the world just pass them by without a care. But most wishes are for impossible things, and that one is no exception.

"Did you hear that?" Gilbert whispered, so low that only Liza could hear.

Her ears returned to reality so that she could listen out for whatever Gilbert was hearing. Sure enough, she caught it right away. Voices and footsteps were steadily getting closer. And one of those voices sounded distinctly like… "Roderich."

Her blood ran cold as she spoke his name, and both she and Gilbert sat up at the same time. "What do we do?" the German hissed.

Elizabeth pressed a finger to her lips and slid gently off the bed. The voices drew yet closer. Liza padded slowly across the room and motioned for Gilbert to follow. He fell into step obediently, and just as they were ducking into the adjoining sitting area of the suite, the haunting sound of a clicking lock rang out loud and clear.

The two of them glanced at each other, wide-eyed, before speeding up their escape, dodging furniture and sliding through door after chocolate brown door. The sound of those same doors opening and closing behind them made it obvious that they were being tailed. By whom, there was no way to tell. Most likely Roderich or one of his dogged servants. Their quick shuffling turned into a broken jog, disrupted often by narrow doorways and lavish décor, until they managed to stumble out into the hallway.

"Act natural," Elizabeth whispered, though she could hardly contain her giggles as their pace changed again, this time slowing back down to a brisk walk.

Her heart was throbbing and adrenaline pumping as the threat of capture loomed over them. She glanced back again, and just in the nick of time. The door swung open and an intimidating Russian bodyguard named Ivan peeked out. Liza gasped and Gilbert had barely turned to see what was wrong before she was shoving him forward.

"Go, go, go!" she urged, and they broke into an all out sprint, whirling down the stairs and tumbling into the lift with the raw energy of a rockslide. The metal gates were just closing, and Elizabeth continued to shout. "Down, down, down!" she screamed, and finally they began to descend. Just in time. Her eyes glanced at Gilbert again, and they both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"We have to do this more often!" Liza concluded.

The lift began to come to a stop, and Gilbert turned and forced the doors open so both of them could hop out onto E Deck.

"Do you think we're safe?" Elizabeth managed to ask. Between the constant laughter and the effort it took to catch her breath, speaking wasn't the easiest thing to accomplish. Gilbert, just as short of breath as she, noticed something behind her. He shook his head and grabbed her by the arm.

"Shit, we gotta go!" he yelped, and they were off again. They ducked and weaved through an endless maze until they slammed into a dead end. Liza bit her lip and looked around helplessly, until her eyes fell on a slightly camouflaged metal door.

"In here!" she gasped, and yanked it open. A grating mechanical sound shook her eardrums painfully, but she slipped inside anyway, and Gilbert wasn't far behind. They slammed the door behind them and turned to face whatever scene they'd dashed into. The only way to continue was to slide down a mysterious ladder into a room full of steam.

"You go first!" Elizabeth shouted, though she wasn't sure if her voice was heard over the ruckus of the engine noise. To make sure her point was known, she waved at the hole, and Gilbert nodded. He shimmied quickly down the metal ladder, and Liza leaned over to watch for him.

She squinted through the steam and spotted him at the bottom, waving her down. Liza nodded and climbed hastily down to where her escort was waiting. A quick look around provided them with only an eyeful of soot and steam. It was boiling hot and the men who'd been shoveling coal a few moments ago were now staring with befuddlement.

"Don't mind us!" Elizabeth said nervously. "Now, let's go Gilbert. We'll find a way out."

She took his hand confidently and they started running again. No matter how miserable it felt down there, neither of them could keep the smiles off their faces as they dashed through the sweltering chamber all the way to a giant steel door. Eagerly, they threw it open and lumbered into the blissfully cool air. They took a quick account of themselves before observing their surroundings. Crates and boxes, everywhere they looked.

"Storage room," Gilbert muttered, shuffling forward tiredly. Liza nodded and continued scanning the room, until her eyes finally came to rest on a shiny red vehicle.

"Look at that," she said, and Gilbert followed her gaze.

He started toward it immediately, and Liza fell into step right beside him. They shared a knowing look, and Gilbert stepped forward to open the door for his lady. She slipped inside and leaned forward so that she might be able to hear her "driver". He slid behind the wheel and turned toward her.

"Well, I know the way to a lot of places. Where're we going first Liza?"

"Hm," Liza pretended to contemplate. "How about…" Liza shifted forward, leaning out the window to touch Gilbert's shoulder. "…Let me take it for a spin."

Gilbert laughed. "I would, but I don't wanna get anyone killed just yet, Liza."

She folded her arms. "Don't act like you're such a safe driver yourself. I can see you now: speeding down the road, taking out pedestrians as you go…" Elizabeth broke into laughter.

Gilbert snickered and turned from the wheel so that they were facing. Once again, their lips were just so close…and he was just too irresistible. So they were kissing. And then she pulled him closer, and he let her arms reel him in. They collapsed into the back seat, completely tangled up in one another.

Then Gilbert shifted, positioning himself on top of Liza, not quite pinning her down, but not making it easy for her to wiggle away either. As if she'd want to! He kissed her again, gently but more passionately. He leaned further down and his lips brushed her neck eagerly, generating scorching heat that weaved its way throughout Elizabeth's body. She could feel her heart hammering harder than ever before.

Gilbert paused and pulled back a little. Their eyes locked on one another, and they felt so lost in the broiling sea of passion that everything else was forgotten. The walls that divided them, the borderlines between their worlds, no longer existed. Nothing else mattered but that night, that very moment.

"Liza…"

The way he said her name, with such feeling and fervor, set off fireworks inside Liza's mind. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, to savor them. Then she looked at him again, waiting eagerly for what he'd say next. They both knew what was about to happen. It was only a matter of time.

"Are you…nervous?" Gilbert asked carefully.

Elizabeth smiled coyly, and with little effort at all, she pushed Gilbert up and then backwards, so that she was the one pressing him into the soft seat of the car.

"No. Are you?"

She watched with great pleasure as Gilbert caught his breath. She'd either excited him or knocked the wind out of him. Hopefully both. Finally he smiled and spoke again. "This is what I love about you, Liza." She leaned down and they shared another passionate kiss before Gilbert took control, rolling her to the bottom position again. "Your spark," he breathed.

The coldness of the night melted away inside Gilbert and Liza's steamy cocoon. Smooth, flowing movements, a breathless entwinement; there were no boundaries, only love. It was more than just "sparks", more than just "fireworks". It was even more than fire.

And when the heat began to die down and the night was still again, Elizabeth was able to say with confidence: "I love you, Gilbert."

"I love you too," he said.

And it was true. For that single, fleeting moment, everything was perfect.


	14. Collision

Chapter 13: Collision

April 14th, 1912.

It is 11:15 p.m.

Titanic has about three hours left.

...

Ludwig was freezing, but he really didn't want to move. Feliciano had fallen asleep a while ago, presumably because nightmares had kept him awake throughout the night. His head was resting on Ludwig's shoulder, and he was actually sleeping peacefully. He hadn't stirred. It would be terrible to wake him up from such a calm slumber…but it had to be well below freezing outside at this point. And it was late. Ludwig needed sleep too!

He was just about to shake the little Italian awake when he moved on his own. His head shifted and his eyes slowly blinked open. He shivered as he became conscious of the arctic temperatures, and he quickly sat up.

"Oh, I f-fell asleep?" he asked.

Ludwig nodded.

"Sorry," Feliciano said quietly. "It's really cold out here!"

"It is. We should go inside, or we'll both catch our death out here."

Feliciano shuddered again, but Ludwig felt as if that shiver might have been caused by something more than just the chilly weather. He slowly got to his feet and extended his hand so Feliciano could do the same. Ludwig thought he seemed a little sad.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired as the pair began slowly maneuvering toward the staircase.

For a few paces, Feliciano didn't even acknowledge him, as if he hadn't heard the question. Ludwig was about to repeat himself, but finally, there was a response.

"Well…no…"

There was something hanging onto the end of that no; an additional explanation was dangling fearfully in Feliciano's mind. Ludwig could feel it there, but he needed to hear it out loud.

"Really?" he said. It sounded flat, like a statement almost.

"Well…no…" the Italian repeated. "It's just that…well…you're so nice to me, you know? You always help me and everything, but I haven't done anything for you."

The German looked down into Feliciano's eyes, but he saw nothing but genuine concern. His expression was completely innocent.

"You don't owe me anything," he assured nervously. He wasn't good at this comforting thing, but it seemed he'd been doing a lot of it ever since he crossed paths with this oddball.

"Are you sure? There's nothing you want me to do?" Feliciano asked. They'd slowed down to a snail's pace on their journey to the staircase, but Ludwig didn't feel cold anymore. Watching the purity and utter caring flicker through Feliciano's expressions made him feel somehow warmer inside.

Ludwig didn't know what to fill the quiet with. "Um…"

Suddenly he heard an odd clinking sound, and Feliciano dove across the deck in pursuit of something Ludwig never saw. "W-What are you…?" he watched, perplexed and alarmed, as Feliciano nimbly slid across the ground all the way to the rail, where he managed to catch up to whatever he was chasing after. He stood up and curiously inspected the item in his palm.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked.

"This pendant," Feliciano replied, holding up a small necklace in the shape of a cross. "I think it fell off your neck."

He was right. Ludwig recognized it instantly, and snatched it away like a spoiled little child. "Y-Yes, it's mine!" he said sharply, and he saw Feliciano frown.

"Well what is it?" he asked.

"It's just…something important. Special. That's all."

"Special? Special how?"

Ludwig visibly cringed as a barrage of painful memories came crashing down over him. His chest felt heavy with the burden of his deepest secrets. "Nothing. I…don't want to talk about it."

The blond picked up his pace again, storming toward the staircase, flustered by what had just happened. Feliciano caught up surprisingly quickly, crossing in front of the German at the top of the staircase. They both stopped, and Ludwig tried to meet his eyes, but looked away guiltily as soon as he saw how sad and sympathetic they looked.

"H-Have you ever heard the story of the lion and the mouse?" the Italian suddenly squeaked.

Ludwig looked back up. "What?"

"It's a story I used to hear when I was little. S-See…there's a tiny mouse who meets a great big lion. The mouse is really scared at first, but the lion decides to have mercy on him because he's just a pitiful little mouse. Then one day the lion gets caught in a net, so the mouse uses his teeth to cut the lion free, and the lion and the mouse become friends…" Feliciano trailed off for a second, and smiled lightly in Ludwig's direction. "Anyway, the lesson is that…anyone …even if they seem small and weak…can help you somehow. If you're kind to them, they'll do the same for you. So if you want to talk, I'll listen. I owe you, right?"

Ludwig swallowed. He couldn't hold it in any longer. For years he'd kept quiet about this story. And now…this goofy little Italian was going to change everything. He released a long, anxious breath and began walking down the stairs. Then he held the pendant out and pointed the tiny inscription on the back.

"It says: _jermand schüzenswert._ That means _someone worth protecting._ It was my mother's…before she gave it to me. That was the night she died." Ludwig glanced up nervously, but Feliciano was still watching. His face was contorted with sorrow and sympathy. He nodded in encouragement. Ludwig slipped the pendant into his coat pocket and went on.

"I was only nine years old. None of us know how the fire started, but it reduced our house to nothing in an hour. By the time we all woke up and realized what was happening, it was too late to stop the fire. My mother got trapped when a part of the ceiling fell …" Ludwig shuddered. He wasn't sure he could do this. He never thought about this, much less talked to anyone about it, but Feliciano was still listening intently, so as the two descended staircase after staircase toward G deck, Ludwig continued.

"My father tried to free her, but he could only move it a few inches. Then he ran off without her. My brother and I...we stayed with her. We didn't know what to do. She told us to go, but we wouldn't leave. Then at one point, she reached through the opening…and gave me this." Ludwig paused to take another breath. His body was actually trembling as he relived the night he'd tried to bury in his memories for so many years.

"She told me that the pendant had been in our family for a long time. She wanted to hand it down to me because she believed that even though I was the younger brother, I would be the one who would have to protect others. She told me to find someone special, who was worth protecting, and pass the pendant on to them." Ludwig paused his storytelling again, and this time, it was even harder to go on.

"Go on," Feliciano said.

The blond inhaled deeply, and picked up where he left off. "After that, she made us both get outside. The fire burned until my house was nothing but ashes. No one could put it out."

Feliciano nodded slowly to let Ludwig know he was still listening respectfully, and Ludwig continued. "Gilbert never really talks about that night. I think he's tried to block it out. As for my father…well, I never really forgave him for running away. That's why Gilbert and I left home as soon as we were old enough."

Ludwig leaned back against the handrail. His knees felt weak and his body was still trembling. But in spite of that, his chest also felt a little lighter. Sharing his past with someone else had made it seem as if a great weight was lifted from him.

There was a respectful silence.

"I hope you find them," Feliciano said quietly.

At first Ludwig was puzzled. "Find who?"

"Your _'someone worth protecting'._ I think if you found them, you'd be happier. Maybe you'd smile more!" And Feliciano smiled, as if Ludwig didn't know what the word meant.

The shaking seemed to instantly subside, and the lightness in his chest started to glow until Ludwig's felt completely at peace. He couldn't even recall the last time he'd felt this way; it was almost like a piece of him had been missing, and now he was finally complete. "Feliciano…" he said warmly.

Before he could add anything else, the ship jarred and the ground shook beneath his feet. Feliciano yelped and started to tumble downward. Ludwig saw what was happening just in time, and grabbed the little Italian's shoulders in an attempt to steady him. Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as planned. Ludwig was able to catch Feliciano, but his own body tumbled backwards and smashed against the cold floor of G deck's hallway. Feliciano collapsed right on top of him, and Ludwig gritted his teeth against the pain.

"A-Are you okay?" Ludwig had to know.

"I'm alright, thanks to you!" Feliciano said. "I wonder what that was!"

Ludwig blinked as some things Feliciano had said raced back through his mind.

_"I'm alright, thanks to you!"_

_"You're always helping me and everything…"_

_"You already protect me all the time anyway, and I look up to you!"_

It was all beginning to make sense. The German's expression softened into a smile. "It's you…" he muttered.

"What do you mean?" Feliciano wondered.

Ludwig felt his face turn red, and quickly turned his head to the side. It was embarrassing for someone like Ludwig to say this aloud, but it had to be said. _"Mein jermand schüzenswert._ My _'someone worth protecting'._ I-It's…you."

Feliciano's innocent eyes widened. "M-Me? But…I…" His words sputtered and died; they were meaningless compared to the sparks dancing between them. They were nothing compared to the raw emotions that held their eyes on each other. It was like magic. It was like a spell.

Slowly, Feliciano leaned down toward Ludwig, who was still lying contently beneath him. It seemed like an eternity passed before their lips met, but when they finally did, it was well worth the wait. Ludwig reached upward and wrapped his arms around Feliciano, luring him even closer. The auburn-haired man gasped slightly, and his lips pulled back somewhat, resting inches away from Ludwig's. Next their mouths pressed together again, more intensely than before. Feliciano's arms wrapped around Ludwig's neck so that they were entirely entangled in each other, and Ludwig couldn't distinguish his own heavy heartbeat from Feliciano's anymore.

For a second the dreamlike caress hesitated and Feliciano leaned back. Their eyes locked, and their every emotion was relayed through that powerful stare. Feliciano's dark eyes were serious and filled with adoration. Ludwig's sky blue ones were abundant with just as much affection, and he pressed his nose to Feliciano's so that there was no distance between them. "I…I'm going to promise you something," he whispered.

Feliciano didn't make a sound, but Ludwig knew he was listening.

"I promise you that I'll always protect you. Somehow, no matter what it takes, I'll be there for you."

Ludwig could feel Feliciano's body trembling on top of him; possibly with passion, or possibly because he knew how crazy this thing was. Possibly with fear that things had happened too suddenly; a fear that Ludwig shared.

"You mean…always? As in forever?"

Ludwig could feel himself smile at that. "Yes, that's what I mean."

Feliciano relaxed a bit and leaned down even further, resting his head against Ludwig's chest. They were able to stay there for a few moments longer, but after that, every savory second slipped away like sand. No matter how long they tried to hang on the moment, time poured out from between their fingers, and they eventually had to break the tender embrace. It seemed that somewhere distant, down the hall, quite a commotion had begun. For the quickly escaping second, it didn't matter. Soon, the blissful bubble would burst. In only minutes, the third class section would explode into sheer chaos.

...

"Wow, did you feel that?" Elizabeth asked, clinging tightly onto Gilbert even though the shudder had ended as quickly as it'd come.

"Yeah I did!"

"Do you think it could've damaged the ship?"

Gilbert shrugged. "It didn't feel like much. I think it'll be fine!"

Liza sighed. Simply being near Gilbert made it easy not to worry. It was easy, and natural. Being with him was as easy as breathing. "Gilbert…when the ship docks…I'm getting off with you!" she cried, and threw her arms around him.

As much as it seemed so, it wasn't something that Elizabeth said in the heat of the moment. Sure, it was out-of-the-blue, but it wasn't untrue. She meant it, with all her heart.

"Whoa, where did that come from?" Gilbert laughed. "This is just crazy!"

Both of them started to laugh. While it might have been crazy, they both agreed that nothing was going to stop them from making their illogical dream a reality. "We'll sneak off like we did tonight. We'll run away together!" Liza chortled. "Someday they'll call me Liza Beilschmidt!"

Gilbert smiled. "Really? You swear?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I promise!" she said, punctuating her oath by flirtingly poking Gilbert in the chest. A cold breeze picked up, and Elizabeth shivered.

"Are you cold, Princess?" Gilbert snickered.

"I'll show you _cold!"_ Elizabeth said. She squirmed out of Gilbert's arms and reached down to grab a chunk of ice from the deck. "I'll get you for that _Princess_ stuff!"

"Oh no you don't!" Gilbert said. He tried to grab the ice out of her hand, but Elizabeth managed to shove it down the front of his shirt before he could wrench it from her grip.

"That's it! Someone's going overboard!" Gilbert said. He wrapped his arms around Liza again and spun her around like he'd done before. She laughed and tried to twist free.

"Put me down!" she gasped between fits of laughter.

When Gilbert finally put her back on solid ground, he said, "Well thanks to you, I'm getting cold too. We should get somewhere warmer."

He began to lead her away, nearly crashing into two men rushing past. One was unfamiliar, but the other was unmistakably the captain.

"What about the lower levels?" the bearded captain was asking.

"Already flooded. The pumps aren't buying us much time," the stranger replied.

A dreadful feeling settled in Elizabeth's stomach. Whatever that meant, it didn't sound good at all.

"I think this is bad," Gilbert said, meaning he'd also listened in on the conversation.

Liza nodded. "I…I have to tell mother and Roderich."

Gilbert sighed.

"They're still my family!" Liza defended.

"Hey, I didn't say anything, did I?" Gilbert said. "But I have to go warn my brother. He should be back in our room, on G Deck."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay. If all goes well, I'll escape again and we'll meet back out here. But if something goes wrong, you'll have to come and find me. Understand?"

Gilbert saluted. "Yes, princess Liza!"

She punched him on the shoulder. "Don't start with that again," she growled.

"Got it, cowgirl," the German sneered.

"Just go already! I'll see you soon," Liza said.

"Ok," Gilbert leaned in for one last, short kiss. "Be safe."

"I will."

Those last four words sounded so simple. However, over the next few hours, they would prove to be quite difficult to follow through on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then. Yay for dramatic backstories?


	15. Lost…

Chapter 14: Lost…

April 14th, 1912.

It is 12:00 p.m.

The ship is going down, there's no doubt about it.

It is only a matter of minutes before all hell breaks loose on the grand Titanic.

...

Elizabeth swallowed as she took the hall stride by stride. She knew they'd all be waiting for her in the room. Ready to lecture disapprovingly; to scream, to trap her there again. They'd be beyond furious. But that didn't matter now. Something was seriously wrong, and though things were not all well between Liza and her family at the moment, those people still mattered to her.

She reached the door quicker than she'd hoped, and there was only one thing left to do. She took a deep breath and turned the knob. Liza didn't feel a need to knock. The sight that greeted her as she swung open the door was a bit terrifying. Roderich was sitting in an armchair, legs crossed, simply staring at the timorous figure in the doorway.

Mother was standing beside him, hands gripping the back of his chair tightly. Her face was taut with a mixture of emotions. Ivan was also standing beside Roderich's chair. His expression was placid, but his eyes were furious. Even the maid was there, though she was dusting the vanity. She paused in her cleaning to stare at Elizabeth along with the others.

The russet-haired girl swallowed and said, "Something serious has happened."

Roderich slowly stood up from his chair and walked toward her. "Yes. Yes, something _very_ serious has happened," he said. His voice was steady, but Elizabeth knew this was only the calm before the storm. "Would you mind explaining to everyone where you've been? Or who you've been with?"

"Roderich, this is not the time! Something very-"

"Or would you care to tell your poor mother what you've been _doing?"_ his coolness was quickly ebbing away, and his last syllable came out as a venomous hiss.

Liza looked toward her mother, who was shaking her head disapprovingly. "I thought better of you than this, darling."

Liza didn't look her in the eyes. They were trying to make her feel guilty, but she had to keep her train of thought on what was really important here. "Please, you have to listen to me! Something has gone wrong!"

"You're the only thing that's gone wrong here," Roderich said coldly. "What were you thinking, Elli?"

That condescending tone, that infuriating pet name; it all made her want to take off running again, but she didn't. She just stood there, seething silently and trying to compose herself. She hadn't properly warned them yet.

"Well, Elizabeth, if that's all you have to say for yourself…I shall go dress," Mother said. She drifted into the other room, motioning for the maid to follow. Roderich's bodyguard straightened his posture and stood falteringly by the door, as if he wasn't sure whether to stay or go. Roderich said nothing; he only stared at her coldly.

Roderich paced across the room to the vanity. He picked up a long, slender box. He paced back. "Look inside this box, Elizabeth," he said. Liza slowly pulled the box open. A beautiful string of jewels sat inside, glimmering in the shadowy light of the cabin. Roderich pulled the golden chain out and allowed the stones to twinkle like stars over Liza's head. Then he slowly fastened them around her neck.

Elizabeth felt Ivan glaring at her more intensely. Their eyes met for a moment, and when the unapproachable man noticed her looking, he ducked silently out of the room. He was obviously angry about before, and Elizabeth didn't like the way he was acting. A foreboding chill swept the room, but Roderich quickly distracted her from it.

"I was planning to give this to you after dinner tonight," he said. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Liza didn't answer his question. "It's heavy. Are the stones real?"

"Of course the stones are real," Roderich snapped. There was a long pause. "What do you think this necklace symbolizes, Elli?"

Elizabeth swallowed, but didn't react to Roderich's inquisition.

"It symbolizes our engagement. It symbolizes that you belong to me now."

Elizabeth hated the way he said that. "So, it's like a dog's collar, then?" she asked lividly.

The look on Roderich's face was frightening. He was more than angry.

Liza's heart started to pound, but she didn't submit to him. "Roderich, I've told you before, I'm not your pet! I'm-"

She heard his hand come in contact with her face, but she didn't even feel it at first. It was such a surprise that her brain didn't even register it for a few, disoriented seconds. She slowly brought her hand up to the reddening patch of skin where he'd slapped her. "I…" she couldn't speak.

Roderich grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, and Elizabeth shrank back, fear pumping through her with each rapid pulsation of her heart. "Look at me in the eye, Elizabeth!" Roderich shouted.

Before anything else could happen, the door creaked open, and a blond young steward poked his head inside. Roderich shoved Elizabeth away, and the steward said, "Sir, I've been told to ask you to put on your life vests and get out to the boat deck."

"Get out! We're busy!" Roderich snapped.

"N-No, Roderich, this is what I was talking-"

"Shut up," a vicious glare shut Elizabeth's mouth instantly.

"Please sir. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it's the captain's orders. Dress warmly now; it's quite cold out tonight."

He stepped forward and handed both of them a white life vest. "No need to worry miss, I'm sure it's just a precaution."

The steward went off in a hurry, so Elizabeth didn't get to ask any questions. They were left alone again. Roderich shot her one last rueful glare before walking out of the room. Elizabeth stood there in a daze for a moment. Even at breakfast, when he'd gotten so upset, Liza had never seen Roderich act so violent and ferocious. Elizabeth tried to clear her head. Now was not the time. Something serious was going on.

There was a flurry of dressing and strapping on life belts before the party hurried out. They stopped at the grand staircase, however, along with many other first class passengers. The weather and crowds on the boat deck were quite unpleasant, and apparently no one wanted to deal with it.

The more time that went by, the more anxious Elizabeth became. She was nervous about what was happening with the ship, for one thing. Everyone else was acting like this was nothing but precaution, but something just wasn't right.

Worst of all, something she'd thought about earlier was coming back to her. She'd mentally calculated that there weren't nearly enough lifeboats for everyone on the ship. If she went down, thousands of people were going to die.

Liza also felt guilty for not being able to go meet Gilbert. He must have been waiting by now, but there was no way she could sneak away at this point. Roderich was pulling her along by the arm, and showed no signs of letting go.

_Please Gilbert…please find me!_

She knew that if he managed to get close enough, they'd be able to escape together. Alone, though, she wasn't sure she was cunning enough to think of a plan that would get her far enough fast enough.

_He'll be here,_ she thought. _I know he'll come!_

But something else dawned on her then. He wouldn't be able to get in here. The men standing at the doors wouldn't allow him inside. This was first class territory after all. Why didn't Elizabeth think of this before? How could she have been so stupid? If she wanted to have even a slight chance of finding Gilbert, Elizabeth had to get outside. And that meant convincing the others to take her there.

"Roderich," she said. Her voice wavered with nervousness, but he didn't lash out or tell her to shut up. He simply stared at her with disdain and mild interest. "Please, you have to listen. I think we're really in danger."

"Elli, really, there's no need to worry! This is the Titanic after all. You've heard what they say! Not even God himself can sink this ship!"

Liza bit her lip. She had to think quickly. "I'm worried, Roderich. Can't we just go out there and secure a place for ourselves on a lifeboat? Just in case something really does happen…" She gazed pleadingly up at her fiancé.

He sighed deeply, and Elizabeth barely suppressed a grin. She'd never understood what people meant when they talked about her eyes being gorgeous, but now she was glad Roderich wasn't immune to their magic. "Alright, but it's deathly cold out there. We'll just assess the situation and come right back, to ease your worry. Alright?"

Liza smiled and squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

**12:40**

The night air hit Liza with the severity of a sledgehammer as she and her family stepped outside. She hadn't noticed the cold so much before, but now it felt like it was practically eating away at her. Elizabeth scanned the deck, but there was no sign of Gilbert.

_Please hurry,_ she thought.

"Alright! Women and children please begin loading the boats!" a steward called.

So far, everything still looked calm and orderly. Women grudgingly obeyed, whining about the cold as if it were all just a drill. Liza wasn't so sure, and she wanted to make it so Roderich wasn't either; otherwise he'd quickly head back inside.

"Look! They're putting people in the lifeboats. Something has to be wrong!"

Roderich shook his head. "No…we've been told it's just a precaution…remember?" the bespectacled man tried to reassure her. His eyes held a certain flicker of uncertainty as well, and Elizabeth knew her plan was working. If she could keep him hovering near the lifeboats a while longer, maybe Gilbert would really find them!

"But what if it isn't? Do you really think they'd put us through all of this if it were just a drill?"

Roderich swallowed. "I…I don't know. But precaution or not…it seems they're loading the women and children now. We should get you on a boat."

Elizabeth froze. Her plan had worked a little too well. She couldn't get on a boat! Not without finding Gilbert! But she couldn't refuse either, or Roderich would see straight through her hastily put-together façade.

"I…um…" she fumbled her words, and Roderich took it as a "yes". He began leading her and her mother toward the boats just as a blindingly white firecracker exploded in the sky. Some of the children cheered, thinking it almost like a show. Most people knew better, and for the first time, Elizabeth was sure of the truth.

"That's a signal flare. A distress call," she whispered without thinking.

Roderich gripped her arm more tightly. "Now, we don't know that for sure," he said.

He feigned confidence; his voice revealed his fear. He pulled Liza more roughly toward a lifeboat, and she moved with him. Her mind felt numb. The ship was going down. More than half of its passengers were going to die that night. And if she didn't find Gilbert…Gilbert! The image of him burning in her mind halted her feet.

"Wait…" she said. No one seemed to hear her request.

"Oh, I hope the boats aren't too crowded," Mother was whining.

Liza glared in her direction, disgust scorching through her veins. Only her mother would be thinking about such things at a time like this. Elizabeth tried to ignore the whining as she was pushed through the crowd. Her eyes searched desperately for Gilbert as she pulled against Roderich, but she was moving too quickly through the multitude to distinguish one face from another.

Another one of her mother's questions caught Elizabeth's attention:"Do you think they'll divide them according to class?"

Finally, she'd had enough.

"Shut up, Mother!" Liza shouted, throwing Roderich's hand off her arm.

Mother froze, mouth hanging wide open in disturbance and awe.

"Don't you understand? The water is freezing! There aren't enough lifeboats for everyone! Not enough by half! Half the people on this ship are going to die!" Several people nearby shot suspicious and nervous looks in Elizabeth's direction.

Mother and Roderich seem unconcerned.

"Not the better half," the glasses-wearing man said smugly.

_Better_ half? If someone like _him_ was considered part of the better half, then maybe Liza wanted to belong to the lesser side. Another blazing firework exploded, the same white-hot color as Elizabeth's burning outrage.

"You…" she hissed, unable to find adequate words to transmit the unadulterated rage she was feeling.

Again, Roderich seemed untroubled by what she had to say. Mother climbed on to the boat, and he nudged her forward. "Go on, Elli. Get in the boat." She couldn't move. What was she supposed to do? There was no way she was getting off this ship now. She still hadn't found Gilbert.

"Come on dear," Mother said, motioning her forward.

Finally, Liza found the strength to shake her head. "No…" she said.

"Elli, I'm not asking. Get in the boat," Roderich said.

"Gilbert…" Liza whispered.

"What did you say?"

Another white firework exploded overhead.

"Gilbert…" her eyes flickered across the deck, and she knew she had to go. She couldn't wait here any longer for him.

"Goodbye Mother," Elizabeth nodded to the woman in the lifeboat before taking off in an all-out sprint toward the doors. She wasn't halfway there when Roderich caught her by the arm. He was faster than Elizabeth thought. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled.

"Let go of me Roderich," Elizabeth pleaded.

"You're leaving for _him?_ That scoundrel? That good-for-nothing-"

Those words were the final straw. Liza mustered all her strength and pulled her hand away from Roderich. Before he could grab it again, Liza had stuck him across the face with it. "He's no scoundrel!" Elizabeth insisted.

In his astonishment, Roderich froze for just an instant. That was enough. Liza broke loose again and was on the fly. She burst through the doors of the main hallway and made a mad dash for the lift. Gilbert had told her once what deck he was staying on. _"I have to go warn my brother,"_ he'd said. _"He should be back in our room, on G deck."_

Elizabeth shoved past the crowd in front of the lift, only to be stopped by its operator, who insisted, "The lift is closed! I'm not taking anyone down right now, so step back."

Liza growled with frustration, and then shoved the lift operator backwards with all her strength. "I want to go down and you'll take me down there now, dammit! I'm done playing nice! G Deck!"

Needless to say, the terrified young man did as he was told.

_I'm coming Gilbert!_ Elizabeth thought anxiously. _I'll find you and we'll get out of this together!_


	16. …And Found

Chapter 15: …And Found

April 15th, 1912.

It is 12:50.

Chaos on the sinking ship is building by the second.

...

An interesting sort of man stood against the wall. He was completely silent –just watching. Earlier that day, Francis had been busy drawing all the happiness of the ship: the people he saw, the beauty of the open sea, the magnificence of the ship's design. He'd illustrated all that joy and that hope. Now all he could see was chaos culminating all around him.

Francis simply stood and watched. That was all he felt he _could_ do. When the sea swallows the world one is living on, what power does one person have to stop it? The least Francis could do was stand and wait, allowing other people to board a lifeboat in his place.

An interesting sort of man stood against the wall, preparing himself to plunge into the depths with the ship.

**12:55**

Elizabeth stumbled out of the lift and into the halls of G Deck. It was even more chaotic down there than it was on the boat deck. People shoved aggressively past Elizabeth as the already ankle-high water levels continued to rise. Liza felt her heart sink with dread. What if she couldn't find Gilbert in this mob of frightened passengers?

"Gilbert!" she called his name desperately as she pushed against the flow of people heading outward. "Gilbert!" The crowd continued to shove, and Elizabeth couldn't fight against the strength of mass panic. The tangle of fearful people shoved her forward. "Gilbert!" She continued to call his name anxiously, and she searched for his face hiding among the massive swarm. He was nowhere to be found.

The herd of steerage passengers finally came to a dead end at the staircase, and Elizabeth paused for a moment to catch her breath as she assessed the situation. The path up to the boat deck had been blocked, and the man who was guarding the gate didn't seem to have any intention of opening it, despite the pleading women and the men who were begging from the other side.

_We're trapped,_ Elizabeth realized.

She wasn't going to stand for that. She had to find Gilbert and get out. She was absolutely determined.

With a long, deep breath, Elizabeth started shoving her way through. She squeezed past one person after another, until finally, with one last stretch of her arms, she pulled herself to the very front and pressed herself against the gate. "Please, listen," she begged. "There are women and children down here! You have to let us out!"

"I can't do that," the crewman protested. "You'll just have to wait there or find another way!"

Elizabeth huffed angrily. "Alright, listen here! You open this gate right now or so help me I'll-"

"Liza!" A familiar voice broke her concentration, and her head swiveled around to face it instantly. She spotted his face among the crowd and suddenly her argument with the gate's key-keeper was forgotten.

"Gilbert!" she practically screamed his name as she fought her way toward him. As soon as they were at arm's length from each other, Elizabeth was pulled into a tight embrace.

"Liza!" he repeated, running his fingers through her hair. "What the hell are you doing down here?"

"I'm so glad I found you!" was Elizabeth's only reply. "Let's never do that again. Never split up ever again!"

She felt Gilbert's body shake with a soft laugh. "Agreed," he happily complied.

Then Elizabeth thought back and remembered why they had decided to separate in the first place. "Where's your brother?" she asked.

Gilbert shrugged disappointedly. "By the time I got down here the place was already a madhouse. I never saw him."

Liza placed her hand on Gilbert's shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure he's alright. Now let's think of a way out of here, fast."

Gilbert grinned boldly. "I'm already on it!" he said.

Elizabeth spun around to keep up as Gilbert dashed over to the bench behind her and began to pull on it. Before she even realized what was going on, several others joined him and yanked the bench from the spot it'd been bolted to. "H-Hey, put that down!" the crewman ordered nervously.

"Out of the way, move over!" Elizabeth directed the crowd so that Gilbert and the others could slam the improvised battering ram into the gate again, and again, and again. After the third heavy crash, the gate gave way and a flood of people went barreling through. Gilbert caught Liza by the arm and dragged her out behind him, preventing her from getting caught up in the wave of frantic passengers.

"Let's go Liza!" he said. "We're gonna make it!"

**1:15**

"What's happened since we've been gone?" Elizabeth asked breathlessly. In the short time she'd been gone, it seemed someone had flipped a "panic" switch, and everyone had broken down until the entire ship was in chaos. "How are we supposed to get to a boat in the middle of all this?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Don't talk like that! We can do this. I'll get you to a boat, Liza."

"Us," Liza argued. "Both of us will get to a boat."

"Yeah, of course we'll try," Gilbert said hesitantly. "But you come first. We'll find you a seat, and then if there's room for me, I'll come along."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but she was interrupted.

"Yes, I fully agree." The voice came from behind, and both Gilbert and Elizabeth whirled around in nearly perfect sync.

Roderich.


	17. A Rising Panic

Chapter 16: A Rising Panic

April 15th, 1912

It is 1:15 a.m.

In an hour and five minutes, Titanic will slide under the icy waves of the North Atlantic, lost forever to the slicing black water.

...

Titanic was a deadly maze for steerage passengers like Ludwig. It was an especially challenging one as well, considering the fact that he was dragging two Italians in his wake. It was worth it though. To keep himself and Feliciano alive, it was worth the trouble of guiding both brothers up and away from the rapidly ascending water levels.

The deck where they'd slept –the deck where Feliciano had experienced nightmare after nightmare and where Ludwig had been there to comfort him –was now submerged in the fatally cold seawater. Ludwig had been running up flight after flight of stairs, only to meet a new dead end every time. They were as high as they could go now, and yet another barrier stood in their path. He'd heard there were some escape routes, but he hadn't found them yet, and Ludwig feared time was running out.

He didn't know where his brother was, but since he'd gone to the upper levels earlier, he could hold on to the hope that at least Gilbert was safe. Ludwig looked down at the auburn-haired man clinging to his arm, and tried to offer an encouraging look. Feliciano had to make it out of here. All Ludwig wanted was to save his one worth protecting.

...

Lovino couldn't get Antonio out of his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about before –about that promise, that kiss. He couldn't stop all the "what-ifs" from circling around in his mind, even as he followed his brother and Ludwig around, searching for an exit. What if he couldn't get to Antonio? What if he died down there, trapped behind a metal gate, lost to the sea forever? What if Antonio's last memory of him was being pushed away?

Lovino had just been confused then. Surprised –totally shocked in fact. It had just happened so fast that he didn't know what to make of it. That didn't mean he hadn't liked it. He wished he could go back to that moment and tell Antonio how he'd felt. The disorienting yet pleasurable experience had really opened his eyes.

He hadn't understood before; he had never really known why he was heartbroken at the thought of Antonio leaving. He thought he knew, but he'd never really seen it. He cared for Antonio; loved him even. He didn't want to be apart from him. Antonio had been there since… always. It had been so many years since they met. How long had Lovino loved him? How long had Antonio loved him back? They'd never even known it.

Now, Antonio might never get to find out. Lovino gazed at the crowd ahead, banging on the gate. He looked behind him, at the stairs water would soon cover. He closed his eyes. He hoped. He waited.

**1:17**

Antonio's eyes surfed the crowd. They saw so much. They saw so much fear and panic. The decks were teeming with pain and sorrow. He saw everything. But at the same time, he saw nothing. The things –or rather, people – Antonio was looking for were not there.

"Antonio!" Antonio's train of thought was halted when he heard the familiar voice calling his name.

"What is it, Francis?" Antonio asked, turning to the Frenchman racing toward him.

"Something terrible is happening!"

"Yes, you could say that," Antonio said, glancing at the water getting rapidly closer.

Francis shook his head. "No, no, something even worse!"

Antonio cocked an eyebrow. A sinking ship was pretty hard to top, but he was willing to have an open mind.

"The steerage passengers…" Francis looked around warily and leaned a bit closer so he could lower his voice. "…they've got them locked below decks. Not all of them. I've seen some…a few…but there must still be others."

Antonio was only dimly aware of dropping the lifebelts he was holding. They hit the ground at his feet one by one as his grip went slack. Then his eyes wildly searched the crowd again. He wanted to slap himself for not noticing sooner. Even Francis had realized it before him! There were hardly any third class passengers. No wonder he hadn't seen Feliciano and Lovino!

"What…" his voice wouldn't come out quite right, possibly because his heart seemed to be throbbing all the way up in his throat. "Why…"

Francis shrugged and shook his head again, still getting his breath. "I do not know, but you have to go do something! You're a member of the crew after all."

It took a while for Francis' words to actually process. Antonio let his brain catch up to the real world again, and then he spoke slowly. "Right…and Lovino…I-I have to go."

At that point he took off, leaving Francis without even a word of farewell or good luck. Antonio wouldn't think about that until sometime later. All that mattered in that adrenaline-filled, horror-fueled moment was saving those people; saving Lovino.

**1:22**

Elizabeth absolutely could not believe what was happening. Gilbert and Roderich were in agreement about something. That alone was enough to blow her mind. But they were in agreement that Elizabeth, and Elizabeth alone, should get in a lifeboat and float away to safety. She never would have suspected either of them to think that, but the two mortal enemies were suddenly in concurrence.

Roderich didn't even seem angry anymore. He didn't comment on the outrageous stunts she'd pulled or the terrible things she'd said. Could it be that he really still cared? Or did he have some ulterior motive? And Gilbert! He was being so… _selfless._ That just wasn't right. He was telling her to leave him, to climb into this lifeboat without him. They dragged her numbly toward it, and she only watched as other couples screamed out tearful goodbyes.

The women were torn from the men as they scrambled to get aboard the small boats. Elderly couples or newlyweds: whatever the pair, the words were always the same.

"I won't leave you!"

"Don't make me go!"

It had all seemed quite overdramatic to Liza before. Now, she felt differently. Leaving this ship meant leaving the man she loved behind to fend for himself. It meant pulling away from her center of gravity; it meant abandoning a piece of her heart, with no guarantee that she'd find it again. Gilbert nudged her toward the boat, which was quickly filling already. She turned toward him and pressed herself closer. "I won't leave you!" she said.

Gilbert's eyes were sorrowful, but not hopeless. "Liza, you have to go."

She shook her head. "No! Not without you!"

Roderich leaned in to interrupt. "There are boats on the other side letting men on. Gilbert and I can both go there."

His jaw was clenched with anger, but Elizabeth saw no signs of dishonesty. Gilbert nodded and smiled reassuringly. "See? I'll be fine, Liza. Now go."

Before she could protest, someone's hand pulled her into the boat –Liza never did figure out whose. Then she was standing there as a few other people climbed in beside her. Her fingers stretched toward Gilbert as far as they could, but he still lingered just out of her touch, watching solemnly. Then, with a creak that pierced right through Liza's heart, the lifeboat started to lower.

It hurt. It hurt more than she thought it would to be dragged apart from something that pulled her in so strongly. Another white flare went up, igniting the world above Gilbert's head, illuminating him. Elizabeth wasn't aware she'd been crying until she felt her hair begin to stick to the wet streaks on her cheeks. She brushed them away quietly, and suddenly took notice of the little girl next to her, who was clutching her mother's skirts and crying just as hard. She leaned over and patted the girl's shoulder. The tiny blonde looked up in surprise.

"It's okay. Be strong!" Liza encouraged, though her voice was shaking as she attempted to fortify the younger girl. "By going away and being safe, we're making the rest of them feel better, right? And we want them to be happy. We don't want them to worry, hm?"

Elizabeth didn't know whom she was trying to convince, but she spoke the words strongly and passionately, so that this innocent little girl might actually believe them. The blonde dried her tears and offered a weak little nod.

"Thank you," her mother said.

Elizabeth nodded and said, "She seems like a sweet girl."

However, she couldn't keep her eyes from looking back at Gilbert. An agonizing ripple of pain slashed through her chest, and it was so upsetting that she could hardly breathe. Her sobs were strangled and muted. Her mind was a blizzard of distress and regret. She couldn't do this. What was she thinking! Didn't she just say a few minutes ago that she never wanted to leave him again?

"Sweeter than me," she added to her previous statement.

"What?" the girl's mother asked.

Elizabeth never answered. Instead she threw herself forward over the woman beside her, earning some screams and gasps, and a few rocks of the lifeboat. That would never be enough to stop her. She kept going, pulling herself onto the gunwale, over, and onto the deck. She didn't even feel a strain on her muscles; only the rightness of getting closer and closer to her center of gravity.

She started running as soon as her feet hit solid wood. She wasn't sure how she knew where to go –she just knew. Gilbert pulled her in like a moth to light, and they found each other at the grand staircase; they met at the clock once again.

"Liza!" Gilbert said, wrapping her in his arms. "You're an idiot, you know that?" He planted a firm kiss on her lips before continuing to scold her. "How could you do something so stupid?"

She kissed him again. "I won't leave you, Gilbert! Never again!"

There was a worry at the back of Liza's mind. It was hard to hear over the confusing roar of emotions, but it was diligent, and finally she began to wonder... "Gilbert…where's Roderich?"

Elizabeth never knew if Gilbert answered or not. All she heard before he started dragging her down the stairs was an odd, high-pitched noise, and something bursting into pieces behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. I don't like this chapter title.


	18. Desperation

Chapter 17: Desperation

April 15th, 1912.

1:35 a.m.

In 17 minutes, the final lifeboat will be launched off the port side.

In a mere 32 minutes, Titanic will be no more.

It is the moment of truth. Who will survive this great tragedy?

...

"Go, go, hurry!" Gilbert hurried Liza along.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and goose-bumps were rising all over her body. They were sloshing through the dining hall, which was already filled with icy saltwater almost as high as their knees. China floated around their feet as they pushed on. Elizabeth still wasn't sure what they were running from. She had heard something she thought was a gunshot, but she didn't want to come to terms with the inevitable truth.

"G-Gilbert," she said.

"What is it?" he asked.

Elizabeth didn't have time to say anything before a bullet hit a nearby wooden column, and splinters dusted the air, whirling dangerously close to Elizabeth's skin. "Hide, hide!" Gilbert hissed. He pulled Elizabeth down, and they squatted in the chilly salt-water behind a table. They waited. They listened.

"Elizabeth!"

Liza perked up at Roderich's familiar voice. She listened closely enough to hear his feet sloshing through the water. "Come out Elizabeth. You can still come back to me. We can still escape."

The sound of a revolver clicking was warning enough to Elizabeth. She shared a glance with Gilbert and he nodded. They had to stay hidden if they were going to escape. Elizabeth watched Gilbert as he searched the room carefully and calculated an escape route. He moved first, and motioned for Liza to follow. They moved silently from one table to another.

From their second hiding place, Elizabeth had a clear view of Roderich. He was armed, though Elizabeth would never know how he'd gotten his hands on a pistol so quickly. His back was turned to the slowly escaping couple, so Gilbert started to move again. Gilbert made slow progress so that there wouldn't be much movement in the water, but tiny waves rippled out around them all the same, and it was only a matter of time before a china plate was knocked into a floating teacup with a loud _clink._

Roderich whirled around, and Elizabeth watched his eyes focus in on Gilbert as he aimed his gun. "No!" she screamed. A gunshot echoed through the room, and without thinking, Elizabeth threw herself in front of Gilbert.

For one, single, slow motion second, Elizabeth thought her life was going to come to an end. Just like that, she was positive that she'd be wiped off the Earth. But death didn't come. There was a sharp pain in her chest and a metallic clink echoed somewhere nearby. She saw the necklace Roderich had just recently given her slide down into the water. Roderich called her name, but his voice sounded distant too, and so distorted. None of it made sense. She was still alive, even though surely she'd just been shot. Hadn't she?

"Liza, let's go!" Gilbert's voice pulled Elizabeth from her stupor, and his hand grasped hers. Just before he pulled her away, she caught Roderich's eye again. His expression was slightly remorseful –regretful. Even after everything that she'd done, he looked as if he didn't want her to go. Elizabeth wasn't sure what it all meant, but she knew that she couldn't turn back now.

Then the world sped up again, and Gilbert yanked Liza the other way. They were racing across the flooded dining hall again, and the chase resumed. Liza's mind slowly began to catch up with the dramatic events that had just occurred. It was the necklace that saved her. That doggy collar had actually saved her life. Roderich's bullet had connected with the stones instead of Liza's skin. She was still alive…but for how long?

Were they still being pursued?

Elizabeth's mind kept going back to Roderich, and she felt her stomach twist with confusion. Even after all their disputes, even after she'd found true love with Gilbert, she couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for him. That look in his eyes caused a sensation like pity to linger in Elizabeth's mind. She tried to push the thought away as she and Gilbert kept running. Another gunshot shattered some china behind them and Gilbert and Elizabeth ducked down a staircase and froze, listening to the sounds above. They didn't hear Roderich, but the world wasn't silent.

"Do you hear that?" Gilbert asked, wide-eyed.

And Liza did. People were shouting again, a familiar unanimous cry for mercy and salvation. Some steerage passengers were still trapped somewhere below. Before either of them could decide what to do about it, another bullet hit the metal handrail, producing a high pitched chiming sound. Down the stairs they went, to a watery coffin where even a fury-driven Roderich wouldn't dare to follow.

The water in the silent, flooding corridor had risen past their knees, and it was still coming. It was a struggle to push against it, but they kept going, racing against the clock in order to somehow save themselves. They forced themselves down one more staircase, since after careful examination, it was the only way to go besides back up the very same staircase they just went down.

Down there the water was up to their waist, and Elizabeth couldn't help but gasp with shock as the freezing beads of seawater clung to her skin. She and Gilbert didn't speak to each other. They held hands tightly and hurried as one down the corridors, no further communication required until Gilbert concocted an idea. "Look there!"

At the end of the hallway, a white set of double doors awaited, setting alight the hope of escape. Gilbert broke his hold on Liza's hand and rushed toward it first, but stopped just as he reached it and whirled around. "Go back, go back!"

Liza didn't have to ask why. As soon as she had the inclination to, a wall of swirling water crashed through the doors and roared straight toward them. She and Gilbert pounded forward, sprinting just out of the water's reach as it quickly filled the hallway from floor to ceiling. Just in the nick of time, Liza spotted a staircase. She nabbed Gilbert by the hand and they practically leapt to the top of the top of it.

Their escape was halted by an iron gate, and there was no turning back. The wall of water was rising faster than they could move. Elizabeth turned from the looming swirls of liquid behind them to the hopeless situation in front. There, right outside the gate, was their final spark of salvation. A steward was about to run up the stairs, and dangling at his belt was a full set of keys.

"Wait!" Elizabeth screamed. "Wait, help us! Unlock the gate!"

The steward froze at first, staring at them guiltily.

"Please!" Gilbert added.

The water continued to pour in, now well above the waist.

"Bloody hell," the steward grumbled.

He stepped down and fumbled with his keys for a moment. His hands were trembling too hard to keep them in his grip, and they fell into the water with a foreboding _plunk._ The steward shook his head. "You're on your own. I'm sorry."

He vanished up the stairs to safety. The water had them pressed against the ceiling at that point, and Elizabeth could feel the air disappearing in shorter and shorter breaths.

"Gilbert…" she gasped.

"Hold on," he choked. "I think I can get the keys."

His head disappeared under the water, and Elizabeth resisted the urge to force him back to the surface as more time ticked by. The lights flickered. "Gilbert!"

Elizabeth heard a _click,_ and realized with amazement that Gilbert had actually done it. The gate suddenly gave way, and they paddled frantically toward the staircase. Elizabeth barely had time to regain her balance before Gilbert was dragging her up the stairs yet again, and their race against time continued.

**1:50**

Antonio reached the screaming in no time. He found the remaining steerage passengers congested at the highest point they could reach. The sound of water echoed somewhere deep below. It wouldn't stay down there for long. "Lovino!" Antonio couldn't help but call his name. His utterance was met by a wall of screaming people and a metal gate. He fumbled with his keys, desperately trying to find the one that would unlock this iron cage.

"Lovino!" he shouted again, jamming the wrong one into the lock.

He cursed himself and finally got a grip on the correct key. As the lock smoothly transitioned from locked to unlocked, he heard a reply. It was faint; so very distant and muffled. But he heard it.

"Antonio!"

It was Lovino. Lovino was there, somewhere behind the gate. Antonio craned his neck, trying to see, but the people smashed up against the gate shoved it, and the barrier gave. A flood of people slammed Antonio backwards. He struggled, trying to move against the flow, searching each face and feeling his stomach drop each time his eyes met a stranger.

He almost missed Lovino. He almost passed him over with only a glance. The terrified, anxious expression on his face was so unusual that Antonio didn't recognize him at first.

"Antonio!" he shouted, bobbing up and down in the multitude.

"Lovino!"

The Spaniard shoved harder, wading through the rapids of panicked people even more quickly. It was a desperate and painful struggle, but slowly, the two got closer and closer together.

"Lovino!"

"Antonio!"

One final shove sent the Italian stumbling forward. They crashed into each other. The force of Lovino's fall knocked them both into the wall, and they wrapped their arms around each other so tightly that both could've suffocated.

"I'm sorry Lovi, I'm so sorry about before! I just wasn't thinking. All day and all night I've been so worried and I-"

"Stop it," Lovino broke in."Don't apologize for it, bastard."

Antonio didn't get to question anything. Immediately after that, his lips were quite occupied. He didn't understand why this was happening, but he found that he didn't care. Nothing else mattered in that moment but the feel of Lovino's lips against his; the tension of his body pressing so close. All he could feel was passion and great liberation. He'd found Lovino. They were together. As long as they were together, everything would be all right.

Or so Antonio thought.

**1:52**

Feliciano pushed himself up onto his toes, watching with despair as the lifeboat began to slowly slide toward the sea. He heard Ludwig growl, frustrated, beside him. "No good…" he muttered, and Feliciano looked up at him. He tried to wear a brave face. He didn't want Ludwig to be worried for him, but his brave face didn't work.

"Don't be scared," Ludwig said. He looked troubled and stressed, exactly what Feliciano didn't want.

"I-I'm fine," Feliciano lied. In reality, his heart was pounding like a rabbit's and his knees were quaking so much he could hardly stand. "I'm just cold."

The blond shrugged off his coat without a second thought, and Feliciano slipped it on. He could feel tears filling his eyes. Was there anything Ludwig wouldn't do for him?

Ludwig looked around, his expression filled with tension and terror. That steady expression flickered for a moment, and for just one flash it was one of understanding instead, as if he'd come to a startling conclusion. Then he reached down and, without warning, scooped Feliciano off the ground.

"Get on my back and hold on tight," was all he said.

Feliciano confusedly tried to get a grip on the German's muscular frame, but he found himself slipping as Ludwig broke into a jog-like pace.

"W-Where are we going?" he asked.

Ludwig didn't answer. He carried Feliciano at a surprisingly quick tempo down to the next lower deck, which was a mere foot or two from the ocean. It was nearly deserted, which made for a quick sprint all the way to the rail.

"Get off," he ordered, and Feliciano's shivering body slid to the ground as limply as a rag doll.

"W-What are you d-doing?" he mumbled.

Ludwig offered his hand and the Italian managed to struggle to his feet. "I'm getting you off this ship, one way or another."

At that moment, the little lifeboat they hadn't made it onto passed in front of them. Feliciano finally comprehended what was going on. "No," he said. "I don't want to do this!"

Ludwig wasn't taking no for an answer. "I promised I'd always protect you. Always, as in forever. Remember?" Then he leaned in and kissed him one more time. The kiss was different than the first one. It was sorrowful –it was a goodbye kiss. Even so, it distracted Feliciano long enough for Ludwig to get a hold on him and scoop him up again, this time over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"No!" Feliciano screamed. "Come with me!"

His cries were in vain. With one light, final, fleeting kiss on the forehead, the German literally tossed Feliciano overboard. He scrambled for something to grab onto, and his fingers clamped around the edge of the lifeboat instantly. He felt the whole thing shake, and the deadly prospect of the icy water below suddenly seemed much more real. A few frightened people tried to push him off, and he screamed again. There was shouting all around him; so much noise bombarded his ears that only a few words got through.

"Let go o' the boat, you madman!"

"Push him off! He'll capsize us!"

"Feliciano!"

"Ludwig!"

The final cry was his own; though he hardly realized it even as he his throat became raw from shouting. Just before the lifeboat hit the water, Feliciano pulled himself over the side, landing flat on his face in the middle of a boat that was only just over half full. The vessel splashed into the ocean and instantly the others started rowing away. Feliciano scrambled to his feet and called again.

"Ludwig! Ludwig!"

He could see a handsome blond figure looking down at him. His mouth moved, but Feliciano couldn't hear what he said.

"Ludwig!" he cried again. He was crying again –a weakling as always. Ludwig repeated what he'd said, and this time Feliciano could just make it out.

"Remember what I promised!" he was saying.

Feliciano swallowed and wiped the tears away on the back of his sleeve. The sleeve of Ludwig's coat. He breathed in its smell deeply, utilizing the familiar, comforting aroma to strengthen his resolve. Ludwig had promised to always protect him. Even if he wasn't with him in the lifeboat, Feliciano still believed that he was never alone. Ludwig's promise was like a comfort to him. He could be strong as long as he remembered that Ludwig wanted to protect him.

_I'll be brave. I'll get through this for Ludwig's sake._

**2:10**

Roderich tore through the crowd as fast as he could. The world was falling apart around him, and now that he'd spotted an escape in the form of an already overcrowded lifeboat, there was no way he was backing down. Ivan trailed silently behind him as they forced their way toward the small overloaded boat. "I still believe we can escape," Roderich told the taciturn man following him, "If you'll help me convince the crewmen that-"

Roderich stopped suddenly as he felt Elizabeth's jewels, which he'd been clinging to since they'd fallen in the dining hall, being yanked from his grip. He whirled around, expecting to face a pickpocket, but saw only Ivan, who was slowly backing away with the necklace twinkling in his grasp. "What…what do you think you're doing?" Roderich stammered.

The sound of a revolver clicking was the comeback to Roderich's incredulous question, and Roderich reached pack into his pocket to discover that his pistol had also been swiped. "This isn't about you anymore," Ivan said. His tone was calm and collected, but his expression appeared desperate and determined. "I'm sorry. I have sisters to feed. They're waiting in America for me to bring home money. This is my chance. Let me go."

Roderich knew even before Ivan finished his request that he couldn't just let him go. Those were the high-priced jewels he'd bought for his fiancé while she still was his fiancé. There was no way he was losing them now.

To Roderich's advantage, the ship shook at that moment, and the necklace fell from Ivan's grip. It slid across the tilting ship toward Roderich, and he dove for it at the same time Ivan did. Roderich reached the jewels first, and as soon as he had them, he turned and ran for the boat. Urgently Roderich drove past the throes of people to the boat and fought his way inside. When he turned to see if Ivan was chasing him, he was distracted by the heart-stopping sight of water flooding onto the deck around his boat. He wasn't safe yet.

**2:13**

Antonio dragged Lovino forward as fast as he could. His lungs burned. His legs ached. None of that mattered. All he cared about was making sure Lovino survived this ordeal. The Italian was already tiring. Antonio felt the occasional telltale tug on his hand, meaning Lovino was lagging behind.

"There aren't any more lifeboats on this side!" Lovino insisted breathlessly.

Antonio refused to believe it. There had to be one more. They had to have hope.

"Hey stop! Where the hell do you think you're taking me?" Lovino screamed.

He pulled out of Antonio's grip, and suddenly the Spaniard was jolted back into reality. He saw the scene in front of him, and it struck absolute dread into his heart. Water was climbing onto the ship right in front of them. It washed toward him quickly, carrying with it a stampede of humans running away from the arctic liquid. It slithered onto Antonio's feet, and he was numbly aware of a stray lifebelt hitting his foot.

"What do we do?" Lovino asked.

His voice was shaking with fear, and Antonio could easily tell he was on the verge of tears. Antonio couldn't speak as he watched the chaos before his eyes. Then he noticed it. There was a lifeboat. It was right there, bobbing in the few feet of rushing water just ahead. People were scrambling into it. Stewards were screaming and blowing their whistles, groping for a way to get it loose.

"We need a knife! Does anyone have a knife?"

Antonio felt time slow down. It was as if his body was swimming through molasses as he reached down to pick up the white article by his foot. He turned to Lovino and said one simple word. It was a stern, commanding, heartbreaking word.

"Run."

Then he bounded forward, strapping the belt on as he moved. The water was at his knees in seconds, wrapping around him and trying to push and pull him until he was stretched out like taffy. He heard Lovino calling his name, but he didn't look back. Lovino had to understand what this meant. He had to realize he was supposed to leave Antonio behind.

The Spaniard half-walked, half-swam through the now waist deep water. It was a struggle, and surely without his lifebelt the bitingly cold water would've swept him away. With great effort he reached the gripes, the pulley that held the lifeboats in place, and his hands wrapped tightly around the ropes.

A wave crashed into him and sent him spinning. His fingers managed to hang on, but they suffered a nasty rope burn. He pulled his body closer and wrapped his right arm around the gripes. Then, with his left hand, he reached back and pulled his pocketknife from the back pocket of his trousers. As quickly as he could, Antonio began to saw through the ropes holding the final lifeboat in place.

The water swelled up even closer to his head, but Antonio held fast until the final rope snapped in two. The lifeboat bumped and swirled away instantly, and after another moment or two, Antonio couldn't hold on either. The water pulled him out and away from the ship at first, and then he felt the current trying to drag him back in.

He paddled frantically, striving helplessly to free himself from the force of suction. He heard screams ringing out all around him. The roaring and splashing of water filled his being, until he couldn't make sense of anything. He could only follow his instinct to swim as hard and fast as possible.

Then he heard a crack and a pop; a great metal groan, as if the Titanic itself were releasing a cry of mourning and suffering. He felt more than saw a shadow pass over his head. Before the smokestack smashed into the water, for some reason, Antonio was finally able to hear Lovino's voice again. One last time, he caught that petrified voice shouting for him desperately, and Lovino wished he could reply to him. In his mind, he gave Lovino one last message.

_Run, Lovino. You have to live._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the sadness begins...


	19. Going Under

Chapter 18: Going Under

April 15th, 1912.

It is 2:15.

Five minutes. That's how much longer Titanic will last.

...

Ludwig couldn't believe it. Was he really going to have to save this one too? Would that bullheaded Lovino even accept his help? Ludwig sighed. Of course he had to try. Feliciano would never forgive him if he didn't try to help his obnoxious big brother. The German had no trouble forcing his way through the crowd toward the man who was clinging to the railing, starting to slip backward as the ship tilted.

"Lovino!" he called.

The Italian man looked up at him. Right away, Ludwig knew something wasn't right. He'd been crying. Crying hard. His eyes were confused and totally horrified, as if he didn't even know what was happening around him anymore.

"Lovino!" The ship tilted further, and Ludwig nearly skidded as he maneuvered closer to Lovino. Finally he was close enough to grab the brunette's arm. "What are you doing? Move!"

Lovino gasped and wriggled away, shaking his head furiously. "But…Antonio is…" he said.

Ludwig had no idea what he was talking about, nor did it matter. The ship was slanting still further, and if he didn't do something quick, both of them were going fall –slipping, smashing, and crashing –down into the sea. "You have to come with me!" Ludwig shouted.

"No!" Lovino's voice was risen with panic. "Antonio!" He looked down at the ocean that was ascending toward them, gulping down everything in its path like a giant fluid creature. One hand released the metal bars, reaching regretfully toward the water. Somehow, that simple gesture seemed to explain it all.

He grabbed Lovino by the shoulders. "Look at me. There's nothing more you can do for him now. You have to come with me, or you're going to die for sure. Do you understand?"

Lovino's eyes finally cleared a bit –he seemed to understand what Ludwig meant. He nodded. "B-But…where are we going?"

Ludwig swallowed as realism hit. If he didn't want to fall, break his bones on the way down, and get sucked in by the ship, then he'd have to jump off and away. He gripped Lovino's arm tightly so that he couldn't dispute. "We're going over."

**2:18**

Francis pulled himself onward tiredly. The boat was tipping at such a degree that he could easily slide right down into the water, but instead he gripped the bars beside him like the handrail of a staircase. He paused when he felt he was up high enough for what he was about to attempt, and he pulled himself over.

There was a decision to be made, and it had to be made quickly. Francis stared down at the blue-black water. It looked so far away. The drop was so terrifyingly, stomach-twistingly long. His head spun for a moment, and he swallowed, turning his gaze to the heavens in order to steady himself. "I can't believe it's really coming to this," he said.

"Hey! Stop this you potato-sucking bastard! I'm not doing it!"

Francis noticed a familiar looking Italian being dragged over the rail by Ludwig. He also noticed something else. Antonio wasn't with him. Francis took a few careful steps toward them, scooting warily along the rungs until he was close enough to speak to them. "Lovino?" he called.

He wasn't listening. "I'm not jumping from up here! Are you crazy?"

"Antonio isn't waiting for you back there!" Ludwig snapped. The Italian backed off to some extent. "We're getting off this ship!"

Francis felt a little stab of pain and shock in his chest. What did he mean Antonio wasn't waiting? Of course deep inside Francis knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Not Antonio. Not that goofy, cheerful, kindhearted little Spaniard. He couldn't be…well, _gone._ He was so young, so bright and full of spirit…

_How many like that are going to die tonight?_ Francis wondered. _Am **I** going to die here tonight?_

His pondering was interrupted by a flicker. The lights went off. Came on. Went off again, with a final sounding buzz this time. Francis' heart started pounding even harder, if that was possible. Finally, he felt the ship tremor. He heard a mechanical groan, almost like a dog's howling, and the world around him trembled wildly. He wasn't sure what exactly was happening, but it no longer mattered what was going on with the ship because he was about to throw himself off it.

"Lovino!" he shouted. This time, the Italian actually noticed him. "You have to jump!" Francis urged him. Even if Antonio wasn't coming back, Francis knew all he would've wanted was for Lovino to make it out of this alive. If he stayed on this crumpling ship much longer, the chances of that were next to none. "Now!" Francis said.

Then he dropped. For a second it felt like his stomach had stayed behind as it sank and twisted about inside him. Time passed so excruciatingly slowly. It seemed like Francis fell forever, but in reality, only a few seconds passed before the cold wind chapping his face was replaced by even colder water. At first his body didn't even move. The pain it was in caused too much of a shock. His limbs wouldn't respond to his brain's commands, it felt like a billion swords had been driven into his skin all at once. Darkness swam into his mind, and he drifted in a daze for a while.

Then he heard it. Several more splashes in the water nearby. People dropping like flies, smashing into the water and sinking like bricks. Francis wasn't going to be one of them. He had to swim. Though it caused the imaginary "swords" to cut more deeply, Francis paddled upward hysterically, breaking the surface after what felt like eternity. Even when the sweet, life-giving element of oxygen surrounded him, Francis could hardly breathe. If he tried, the cold stabbed his chest even more. Burning remained in his lungs as he gasped desperately. His chest barely expanded, but at least it was something.

He looked around, searching for Lovino and Ludwig. He found them nearby, struggling through the choppy water just as he was doing, and he swam after them. "L-Lovino!" he called out breathlessly. The two men up ahead paused and turn toward him, allowing him to catch up. He wasn't sure why, but he felt obligated to watch over Lovino now, as best he could. That's what Antonio would've wanted. Even if Francis couldn't do much, he'd try his best. They'd just have to stick together. Maybe then, things would turn out alright.

**2:20**

Gilbert's swallowed hard as the ship's movement caused his stomach to churn. For the past two minutes, Titanic had been throwing them around like a bucking horse. The crying of metal as the ship snapped in two still rang in his ears. He felt the ship moving again, tiling upward even further. Those with weaker grips began to slip, sliding down the slick floorboards and disappearing into the churning water below.

"Gilbert!"

The German never relaxed his grip on the rails, nor on Elizabeth's hand. "I've got you!" he said. The rush of ascent and the sensation of moving air rushed over the terrified couple, and yet another ingenious plan assembled itself in Gilbert's head. "I've got you, Liza! Come on, over the rail!"

He pulled with all his might, situating himself atop the freezing metal bars. Liza didn't move. Her eyes were so wide with trepidation Gilbert feared she might never move again. He watched the others around her slide and tumble downward. The drop was so far. The plummet was so sharp, almost straight.

"Liza! Come on, you crazy girl! You did this pretty easily a few nights ago!"

Elizabeth blinked, and Gilbert was pleased when he saw her eyes go back to normal. She pulled upward until she could wrap her arms around Gilbert's neck and shoulders, and he hoisted her the rest of the way. They were just in time. The remaining danglers slipped into the ocean as the bow turned straight upward to face the stars. Next…nothing. They bobbed there, one hundred feet above the water, gazing down at the mayhem underneath.

Gilbert tried to convince himself this was all just a dream. This had to be physically impossible, right? There was no way he could be sitting on top of the vertical back half of Titanic, gently floating atop the Atlantic's surface. No way in hell.

"Gilbert…" Liza said worriedly. Her hand was gripping his so tightly it was almost uncomfortable. The torment in Liza's eyes was enough to convince Gilbert of what he wished he could deny. This was real.

"Liza, look at me," he said, touching her face gently.

There were tears there; tears he hadn't noticed yet in the dark. The ship jolted, and they were falling once again. The sea swallowed them like a giant slurping up an enormous spaghetti noodle, and the water got close so quickly Gilbert barely had time to speak.

"Take a deep breath and hold it right before we go under. The ship's gonna suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep on kicking. Don't let go of me," Gilbert instructed rapidly. "We're gonna make it Liza. Trust me."

Liza looked down at the hungry ocean beneath, and then back at Gilbert. Their eyes locked and she spoke with sincerity. "I trust you, Gilbert! I won't let go!"

Their hands squeezed even tighter. Their eyes shut. They took a deep breath. There was a great roaring and a chorus of screaming. Then…there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short but hopefully it's good at least.


	20. Cold Stillness in the North Atlantic

Chapter 19: Cold Stillness in the North Atlantic

April 15th, 1912

2:22 a.m.

Titanic has lost her battle with the sea.

The fight for survival, however, is far from over.

...

Elizabeth had barely broken through the surface of the water before people were clawing at her. She had hardly breathed in a single swallow of sweet, sweet oxygen before a man was using her as his own personal lifebuoy. The water was painfully cold, and salt stung the roof of her mouth as she was dunked again and again. There was screaming all around her; thousands of voices chorused together as one agonized, frantic composition. Out of those thousands, only one voice made a difference to Liza.

"Gilbert!" she screamed. Her head smashed down into the sea again, but she fought her way back up.

"Liza! I'm here!"

She had never been happier to hear him. "Gilbert!"

"Liza!"

She followed the rich, baritone sound of that voice, moving through the water awkwardly because of her lifebelt. They met, and their hands latched together again. They'd come untangled as the ship tried to drag them down and Liza had worried that she wasn't going to find him again. She was relieved to have Gilbert within arm's reach once more, and she wasn't letting him out of her grasp. Another person toppled over without warning, splashing in the water hysterically and nearly running into the both of them.

"We gotta get out of here. Come on, swim Liza!"

Gilbert led them on a slow journey out of the clot of crazed swimmers. Then they paused for a moment. Liza floated emptily and Gilbert searched the water around them, stroking rhythmically to keep from sinking. He seemed to notice something that Liza didn't, and he pointed toward it. "That way! Keep going Liza, keep swimming."

"I-It's so c-co-cold," Elizabeth shivered as the icy grip of the sea began to close around her limbs.

"I know, I know. That's why we have to keep going. Don't give up."

Eventually, Liza was able to spot what Gilbert had seen a few moments ago. There was some kind of wooden debris floating on top of the water. It was jagged at the edges and broken at awkward angles, but it was obvious that whatever it'd come from had once been beautiful and intricately carved. Gilbert motioned for her to climb on, and she obeyed, pulling herself up onto the floating wood shakily.

He attempted to climb on behind her, but the wood tipped and sank. Liza screamed as she felt the extraordinarily cold water reach up to pull her back in. Gilbert slid off into the water, resting his top half on the wood as the lower half dangled in the ocean.

Liza shook her head in protest of this. Her trembling mouth had trouble saying the words, "W-What a-about…y-you?"

"I-It's no-not g-gonna…h-hold both of us…so y-you st-stay th-there!" Gilbert's pale, cracked lips curved into his usual grin, and Elizabeth's heart ached.

She looked around longingly, hoping that a boat was paddling toward them or that another piece of wood was floating right beside her. The nearest debris was half of a deck chair, shattered as the ship sank. Even that was occupied. One of the crewmembers was clinging to it and blowing into his whistle as a distress call.

"B-But…" she began tearfully.

Gilbert shook his head. "N-No b-buts! T-The b-boats are…c-coming for us s-soon a-anyway!"

Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to drown out the screams of people who thought otherwise.

...

Feliciano trembled with both cold and fear. He tried to cover his ears against the horrible screaming, but the hopeless crying of lost souls still broke through.

"Save us!"

"Please, come back!"

"Spare my life!"

"I know you can hear us –why don't you come?!"

"Can't you spare anyone? One life!"

He stood up, fists clenched and face wet. "We have to go back!" he said.

"Sit down!" the crewman ordered. "We can't go back! They'll pull us right down for sure!"

Feliciano shook his head. "No!" His thoughts raced toward Ludwig. What if he was one of the people swimming out there? "We have to go! There are people dying!" He looked around at the others on the boat, but not a single one would meet his eyes. No one moved to grab an oar. "We have room!" he tried one last time.

"If you don't shut up right now, we'll have even more!" the steward growled. "You're already an extra on this boat."

Feliciano slowly sank back into his seat, rattling with despair and fury. Why wouldn't anyone else see the way he did? Lives were being lost. The longer they waited, the fewer they could save! Depressing thoughts raced through Feliciano's mind, turning his usually calm capacity into something dangerous and turbulent.

Ludwig could be out there. Lovino could be out there. Antonio could be out there. They might be floating helplessly, freezing with the others, while Feliciano sat in his warm boat, unable to save them…useless.

...

"L-Lovino…a-are y-you…?" Francis' question trailed away, but it was no mystery what he was wondering.

Lovino blinked and tried to figure out the answer. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't see anything. He'd been listening to the impetuous cries of other swimmers for the past few minutes, but they were dying off little by little. Did this count as living? Was this torture still placed in the category of "alive"?

"I g-guess s-so…" he decided to say.

"G-Good…" Ludwig chimed in.

Lovino didn't acknowledge it. Even his mind was growing numb, and Lovino didn't even try to do anything about it. What was the use?

"D-Don't g-give up …" Francis told him.

Lovino squeezed his eyes shut. As much as he hated to comply with Francis, he forced himself to think –if he didn't, he was afraid he might just slip away. He replayed the night's cruel and frightful events to himself. The past few hours played like a movie in his mind's eye. He'd been trapped below. Antonio saved him, but then he lost Antonio. He _lost_ him. He let him go, just like that.

Nothing seemed to matter after that, but Ludwig noticed him at the last second, and guided him. They jumped off the ship. They found Francis, and then this floating deck chair. And there they were, still holding on to it as if it'd make a difference. They were each clinging on only with their arms, floating in a circle around the tiny piece of debris, pretending it did them some good. In reality the miniscule chunk of wood made no difference, and soon they'd probably just die like the others.

"L-Lovino."

The Italian glanced over to Ludwig at the sound of his name.

"Y-Your b-brother…if y-you s-see him a-again…and I…w-well, if I d-don't…"Ludwig trailed off, as if he'd changed his mind. Lovino secretly glad he couldn't finish. The thought of any more death was just too much for him to handle.

"S-S-So damn…c-cold…" Lovino muttered bitterly.

Ludwig groaned weakly in agreement, and silence fell over them again. Lovino hated the silence. It made him think more, and thinking caused him pain. All he could think of was Antonio. He'd died trying to rescue people. He'd died saving Lovino; begging him to run.

It had to be his fault; somehow, Lovino could be held responsible for Antonio's death. That was the only way to explain the shameful guilt that was swelling in his chest. The thought that he was accountable for the death of someone he cared for so much –someone he loved – was even more painful than the gradual freezing of his flesh. Lovino would've cried if he could, but all the fluid in his body was too cold to leak out.

The silence remained.

The cold, deadly silence.

**2:45 am**

No matter how cold and faint Liza began to feel, she couldn't help but notice when the voices around them began to die away.

"I-It's g-getting…quiet…" she said, surprised at how weak her own voice sounded.

"J-Just a f-few m-more…m-minutes," Gilbert promised. "I-It'll t-take th-them a while t-to organize the b-boats!"

Elizabeth felt another ache in her heart. He always knew what to say. Even if both of them knew how bleak their situation was, Gilbert could use his confident words to make it seem better.

"G-Gilbert…" Elizabeth shifted and looked right into his eyes. "I l-love you," she said.

"N-No you d-don't! D-Don't you st-start… s-sayin' your goodbyes L-Liza! Don't you g-give up!"

Elizabeth closed her eyes slowly and then opened them again. She felt guilty for even thinking she might not survive, but her body wasn't screaming from cold anymore. It just felt like she was fading away.

"I'm s-so c-cold…"

"N-No Liza…you're not d-dying here…not…t-tonight. You'll g-get o-out of h-here and live a long h-happy life. You'll die an o-old lady…w-warm in h-her b-bed. Understand me?"

"I c-can't…f-feel m-my…body…" Liza despaired.

"L-Listen to m-me, Liza," Gilbert continued.

His voice was shaking even more than before, and Liza leaned closer, trying to understand him. One hand plunked into the water, moved around for a moment, and came back up. In his hand was a familiar looking hairpin. At first Elizabeth didn't understand.

"L-Look at t-this. Th-this h-hair p-pin f-fell right on t-top of m-my h-head on the day T-Titanic s-set sail. Th-Then, the f-first t-time I s-saw y-you…you w-were w-wearing a m-matching one." He stopped speaking for a minute, and he lifted the pin up, hooking it onto Elizabeth's frozen locks. Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat as she realized that it really must have been fate that had brought them together. Gilbert smiled. Then he said, "Y-You h-have to s-survive, L-Liza. Y-You…c-can't g-give up. I know y-you're stubborn. N-No m-matter what h-happens…n-no m-matter how hopeless…y-you feel…y-you h-have to…keep g-going. O-Okay?"

Elizabeth reached out with a shivering hand and wrapped her numb fingers around his. "I w-will C-Cross my heart."

They held hands tightly, and Liza rested her head on the wood beside his. The rest of the voices were completely silent, and the only sound that could be heard was a gentle lapping of water.

...

Lovino didn't understand why or how he was even still alive. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't feel any part of his body. The cold had taken it all, but he was still there, somewhat. He moved his head as much as he could. Francis and Ludwig were still there. But they both looked so still. Were they…?

"F-Francis?" Lovino forced himself to say. Francis looked up at him. He looked just as weak and frozen as Lovino, but he was alive.

"L-Ludwig?" Lovino slowly turned to the other blond. He wasn't as responsive, but after staring at him, Lovino could see him shivering.

The silence resettled for a while. Time passed. Lovino couldn't tell if it was a long time or not. Every second felt like a lifetime at this point. But after a certain collection of lifetimes, someone started to speak again. "Lovino."

The voice was so weak and insignificant that at first, Lovino couldn't imagine who it'd come from. He soon realized that it was Ludwig. That pitiful voice belonged to the same strict German that had been screaming at him not so long ago. They made eye contact, and Lovino noticed how much Ludwig's condition had deteriorated. He wasn't shivering any more. His skin had lost any hint of color it once had. His eyes were blank –almost like he wasn't even seeing anymore.

"Y-Yes?" Lovino answered.

"Watch over…your brother…" Then he stopped. There was no more. Ludwig's eyes closed. He was still. His hands went slack and lost their grip on the little deck chair. For a second, he actually floated. Then he sank into the water with barely a sound.

"L-Ludwig!" Lovino gasped, as if that would cause the German to swim back up just to see what he was yelling about. That's what he'd always done before, right? But now he wouldn't. Never again. "No. No." It was too much. Too much. Lovino couldn't take all this death; he couldn't deal with the fact that all these people were disappearing from the world at once.

He started moving toward the spot where Ludwig had once been, struggling awkward and rigidly through the water. "N-No…you c-can't leave me t-too! Y-You b-bastard!" Lovino screamed. His frame convulsed with sobs that yielded no moisture. "D-Dammit…d-don't die…"

"Lovnio!" Francis grabbed his shoulder. "C-Calm down! Y-You'll kill us b-both splashing around like t-that!"

Lovino stopped. He stopped and stared right into Francis' eyes. What did it matter? Die now or die later…either way he'd end up the same. Just another stony, solid corpse. He closed his eyes and waited for it.

_Is this what you wanted for me, Antonio? Is this what you saved me for? Ludwig, did you drag me off that ship just so I could watch you die? You both tried so hard, but I still ended up like this,_ he thought.

Lovino felt a pinch of regret as he realized he'd be leaving his little brother behind, all alone. He could feel even his mind slipping away now. It wouldn't be long. Soon he'd see Antonio again, and he could tell him how stupid he was for giving himself up, how much it had hurt to see him get swept away in the water, how painful it had been to watch that smokestack crash down on top of him. Lovino closed his eyes and waited. After only a few seconds, Lovino felt light touching his face. He opened his eyes, disbelieving.

The light was real, though distant. At first Lovino thought he was finally dying. Then he thought he was just going insane. It took quite a while for him to realize that the light was from a lantern, and in fact it was coming straight toward him.

"Francis," Lovino said weakly, but hopefully. Maybe Francis, at least, could escape with his life.

"I see it," he said. "We have to get their attention. On three?"

Lovino nodded in agreement.

"Ready? One…two…three…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..................
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> I hate everything. T_T


	21. Rescue

Chapter 20: Rescue

April 15th, 1912.

3:00 a.m.

It has been over forty minutes since Titanic sank. There are few survivors left in the water, but it is only now that a lifeboat decides to return.

...

"Hold on! We're coming!"

Those were the words Lovino heard as he saw the boat moving toward him. Rescue. They were actually being saved, after all this, after everything. They were being saved.

The boat started moving toward him, knocking past the less fortunate. It only took a few seconds for the boat to reach its destination, but it felt like a thousand years passed before they stopped.

The crewmen were luckily able to pull Lovino out of the water, because he never would've been able to do it himself. After a long struggle, Lovino tumbled into the bottom of the lifeboat. As soon as he was on something solid, the world spun like an out-of-control carousel. Faces whirled around him. They were speaking, asking questions he couldn't understand. The sounds of the world faded away, and Lovino felt a blanket being draped over him just as everything went black.

...

"Will he be alright?" one of the crewmembers asked, looking worriedly at Lovino.

There were blank looks and worried shrugs all around.

"I hope so," Francis said honestly.

For a while the men were all quiet again, and Francis, shivering in his blanket, began to wonder if they were going to keep searching for people. "Do you think there's anyone else out there?" he hinted.

"We might be too late," the crewman said gravely.

"Shall we turn around?" the other sailor inquired.

Before anyone could answer, a tiny little something reached Francis' ear. He couldn't tell what it was, but he had definitely heard a sound. He froze. "Wait, wait, listen!" he said. "Do you hear that?"

At first only nothingness resounded in the night; then, a few beats later, the sound Francis must've heard in the first place bounced shrilly through the darkness again. It was the unmistakable sound of a whistle.

...

The stars that night were like nothing Elizabeth had ever seen before. They were all that filled her vision; a great cluster of beautiful blinking lights, and the Milky Way, dancing across the sky from one horizon to the other.

Strength was leaving her. She could no longer feel her hand, though she knew that her fingers were still entwined with Gilbert's because her arm detected his weight at the end of it.

Movement –Elizabeth barely caught it in her peripheral vision. Her eyes slowly tracked down from the stars to the water beside her. At first she couldn't quite comprehend what she saw. Then it became clear. The silhouette of a boat was slowly crossing in front of the universe's heavenly masterpiece. There were men inside, moving so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. Water splashed up around it; icy water, smooth and graceful. It was a gorgeous sight.

The hope of rescue fluttered weakly in Liza's chest. Could she move? Slowly, with all the effort she could assemble, Elizabeth lifted her head and turned toward Gilbert. Frozen clumps of hair tore free from the wood with a sickening pop.

"Gilbert," she said. She had wanted to speak loudly, to get his attention, but she couldn't manage anything above a whisper. He didn't move. "Gilbert," she repeated. Still, there was no response. She reached out with her free hand and gently shook his shoulder. "Gilbert. Gilbert, there's a boat!"

Even then, Gilbert remained motionless. Elizabeth touched his head and gently lifted his face toward her. His skin was almost a blue tint. His features were lined with a thin layer of frost. His expression was so peaceful that he could've been sleeping. Elizabeth wished he was.

"Gilbert," she choked.

Her mind wanted to cry, but her body was too broken to produce tears.

"Gilbert…there's…there's a boat…"

Elizabeth would've given anything in the world to see his cheeky grin even one last time. To hear his voice, or his laugh. To have one final argument. But she'd never be able to do those things again. They'd never have another parasol fencing match. They'd never ride horses on the beach, or travel the world. She'd never even get to be Liza Beilschmidt. Her promise was meaningless. Everything, even _living,_ seemed meaningless.

Elizabeth turned around and took one final look at the boat. It was far away now. Even if she had the will, she'd never be able to catch up to it. Her eyes slid closed. The weakness enveloped her. _It won't be long now,_ she thought.

_What the hell do you think you're doing, Liza?_

The first time she heard it, his voice sounded so real that she opened her eyes and looked at him. He hadn't really spoken. But she could hear his voice in her mind, saying exactly what he would've said if only he could. Maybe she was going crazy, or maybe it was simply her conscience. Either way, the voice kept talking.

_You can't just give up! You promised me, remember?_

That was all it took. Hearing his voice, real or not, gave Liza the extra push. Her mind snapped into action. There was something to live for. There were still promises she could keep, after all.

"Wait! Come back!" she tried to call. Her voice was still too weak. In the freezing air, it was difficult to draw enough breath. Her vocal chords were icy and exhausted. "Come back!" she called again. The boat was too far now. The light was almost as small as the stars; a mere pinprick on the horizon.

_There's still hope, Liza!_

There was that voice again. Liza knew right away what she had to do. She just didn't want to do it. She slid closer to Gilbert's frigid body, and carefully pulled their hands apart. "I'll never forget you, Gilbert," she whispered. "I'll never let go."

With a short yet meaningful kiss to his hand, she released her grip on Gilbert, and his body slid beneath the pitch-black waters of the Atlantic, gone forever. Elizabeth tried not to think of it as a permanent goodbye. She imagined Gilbert floating off to some mysterious afterlife, where he could be happy forever, and where he'd be waiting for her. Maybe she'd join him someday. But not that night.

Liza slipped into the water and swam against the slicing cold over to the ship's officer. He was dead, but his whistle remained, just as she'd hoped. She reached out, grabbed it, and blew as hard as she could. The sound was weaker than she expected. Elizabeth took a bigger breath and tried again. This time –thankfully –it worked. Rescue was finally at hand.

_Thank you, Gilbert,_ she thought. _You saved me._

Those were her last words to him. There was no way to tell if the voice was some kind of hallucination or if it actually meant something. To Liza, it didn't matter. His voice had given her strength. He'd saved her in countless ways. He'd loved her and she'd loved him. That's what made the difference –that's what assured she'd never forget. That's what guaranteed that as long as she lived, she'd never ever let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, jeez this is so sad...


	22. Carpathia Arrives

Chapter 21: Carpathia Arrives

April 15th, 1912

4:00 a.m.

The rescue ship that the survivors have been waiting for has finally arrived. All they can do now is crowd on board and hope to find their loved ones waiting.

...

It felt like Feliciano had been sitting in that lifeboat for decades when they finally reached Carpathia. He was still terrified. He felt like crying again, but he didn't. After what he'd been through, crying again would just make him feel weaker and more dejected.

He blinked as nets and rope ladders seemed to unravel from the sky. Everyone was supposed to climb up. Feliciano almost stepped back to let someone else go first, but then, he paused. Why should he do that? He could be brave and venture up the ladder first if he wanted. Hadn't he pledged that he'd be courageous for Ludwig's sake? He'd be so glad to see Feliciano climbing onto Carpathia'sdeck first.

The young Italian took in a deep breath and made the long climb all the way to the top of their rescue ship. Instead of joyous reunions, Feliciano was greeted only by confusion. People were everywhere, moving this way and that way, asking questions, searching for loved ones. There were so many faces to look through and so many voices clashing in a chaotic uproar that there was no way Feliciano was ever going to find Ludwig or his brother.

He shuffled numbly through the crowd, glancing quickly at every person he passed; only to have his heart sink with disappointment each time he saw an unfamiliar face. At some point he was supplied with a wool blanket and a hot cup of tea before he was ushered to the public area where all the other steerage passengers had gathered. It was around that time that fatigue hit him. His weary legs barely carried him over to a seat, where he curled up and looked around despairingly. He saw no sign of his brother, or Ludwig, or Antonio.

_If I end up left all alone…_ Feliciano thought, _then what would I do?_

The mere consideration of losing the people most precious to him sent unbearable pain tearing through his heart. The added fear of being left to fend for himself made it even worse. Feliciano stared down into his tea cup, where he could barely make out his own reflection in the brownish liquid.

His eyes were filled with sorrow and fear. His expression looked distraught. His features appeared worn, as if he'd aged ten years in a single night. A solitary teardrop leaked from his eye and splattered into the teacup. Ripples distorted the unfamiliar reflection, and Feliciano looked away. He didn't want to see it anymore. He only wanted to see his family. He wanted to see Ludwig. He wanted to see his brother and Antonio. He wanted to rewind the clock so he could go back and save everyone, but that was impossible. There was nothing left to do but wait.

...

Elizabeth still felt numb. It wasn't because of the cold. Physically, she was just fine; her body was warming up pretty quickly underneath the wooly green blanket. The ice crystals that had bound her and stuck to her were now melted. The water had dried, for the most part. Even her insides were warming up as she sipped her hot tea.

The numbness of her heart, the emptiness, the loneliness –those were the things that wouldn't desert her. No matter what she did, her train of thought always circled back around to the same thing. Elizabeth lifted her head to the horizon –where the sun would soon rise again – and stared out into the distance. The unfamiliar skyline used to scare her. When she was with Gilbert, it gave her hope. Now she was no longer sure. It was like she couldn't remember how to feel anything anymore.

Elizabeth suddenly was restless and unsettled. She wasn't comfortable in her seat on Carpathia's deck. She stood up and started walking. She wasn't sure where to go, but she felt that she'd know when she reached the right stopping point. Her soul was searching for something that her mind did not yet understand.

"Excuse me," she muttered, "Pardon me." She brushed past face after unfamiliar face, speeding toward an unknown finish line. Then, finally, she stopped. She took in what she saw. She moved again. Francis was up ahead. He was watching her. He saw her. "Francis?" she said.

"Elizabeth," he replied. "I'm glad you're safe."

Elizabeth could tell that he knew something wasn't right. In fact, it felt like he knew everything. In his eyes she saw sympathy and compassion; a knowledgeable kind of warm-heartedness.

"Thank you. Same to you," Elizabeth told him, not sure how else to reply.

"And I know _he_ would be too," Francis concluded.

That caused the emotions to hit her like a brick wall. They all came flooding back at once, the pain and the pleasure, the sadness and the joy, the fear and the perfect peaceful comfort. All of it came rushing back with that simple sentence.

"You're right," she said. And she felt herself smiling just as she shed a tear. "He would be. Thank you Francis."

Francis shrugged. "I haven't done anything but tell the truth," he said.

"I think you've done more than that," Elizabeth said as she turned to leave. "But I still have one more thing to ask you."

"I think I know what it is," Francis told her.

"Just don't tell Roderich that I'm here," she asked.

Francis smiled softly. "Of course not," he said. "Good luck, Elizabeth."

"Same to you Francis. And thanks again."

Then she walked away from Francis; away from an interesting sort of man –a misfit as different as she was.

**5:00 am**

Feliciano had never believed that siblings had any kind of mental connection, like some people say. But as soon as his brother stepped onto Carpathia, it was as if he knew it. He felt like something had changed. Right away, he stood up from his seat and maneuvered toward the lifeboat docking area. It only took a few moments for Feliciano to spot his brother in the crowd. He looked like everyone else looked; cold, sad, and completely drained of energy. But he was _alive._

"Lovino!" Feliciano felt a sudden burst of vitality, as if he'd never been tired in the first place.

His brother looked up at him and his eyes widened. "Feliciano!"

They held onto each other tightly, and Feliciano started to sob again. To his surprise, after a few minutes, he heard his brother choking back tears as well.

"Lovino, don't cry," Feliciano blubbered.

"I'm not crying!" Lovino snapped, shifting so that he could wipe his face furiously. "I just…you're alive…and I…" he trailed off.

Feliciano squeezed his brother again before stepping back. He carefully evaluated Lovino's appearance. "You look pale," he said quietly.

"I'm cold and tired," Lovino replied.

Feliciano took his hand gently. "We'll go sit down then." He tugged his brother forward.

Lovino stumbled dizzily as soon as he moved, and glanced uncomfortably back and forth between Feliciano and the ground. "I'm just tired," he mumbled.

Feliciano stopped walking and placed his hands on Lovino's shoulders. Maybe he didn't believe in psychic connections, but Feliciano could tell something wasn't right with his brother. His eyes were detached and distant, as if they were looking at something no one else could see. His body was still trembling, even though his skin was warm to the touch. "What happened to you?" Feliciano asked earnestly.

Lovino brushed his hands away, never making eye contact as he said, "I don't wanna talk about it."

The brothers silently made their way to a quiet corner where they could be isolated from the crowd. They didn't look at each other. Feliciano curled up with his head to his knees, wishing for the bad air between him and his brother to dissipate. Sadly, it was so polluted with unanswered questions that it was going to be tough to clear.

"You have to tell me sometime," Feliciano pleaded. "What happened to you before? Where did you go?"

Lovino twitched angrily. "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

Feliciano swallowed. "But…wasn't Antonio with you before? Where is he?"

"He's not here," Lovino said quickly.

Here there was a long pause.

"He's not _going_ to be here, is he?" Feliciano asked. He wasn't so slow that he couldn't have figured it out on his own, but Feliciano didn't want to believe it was true.

"No. He's not."

Feliciano didn't feel anything at first. For a few minutes it didn't make sense; he couldn't comprehend it. Antonio was always there. He had always been there. He couldn't just be gone. It was an utter impossibility. Then the words started to sink in. They wrapped around him at first, as a faint, unlikely idea. Then they grew closer, becoming almost the truth. They finally closed in on his heart when Lovino added, "That roommate of ours too. The one who gave you that jacket. He's not coming either." He said it so coldly, so emotionlessly, as if he wasn't taking his little brother's tiny thread of hope and hacking it to pieces.

"No." It came out as a tiny, strangled whimper. It was all Feliciano could manage. "No." Suddenly the thick, warm jacket he was wrapped in felt more like a weight straining Feliciano's shoulders. It was only a reminder of what he'd done –a keepsake from the person he'd carelessly left behind.

He stood and pulled the jacked off, dropping it on the ground instantly, as if it were on fire. When it hit the deck, there was a loud clacking noise. Feliciano didn't understand at first, but all of the sudden, he remembered. He fell to his knees and crumbled the fabric between his fingers, searching the pockets desperately. Finally, he found it. It was a small necklace…a necklace shaped like a cross.

He stood up and held it up to the light of the rising sun. It shimmered like the great lights of Titanic reflected on the ocean. His hands trembling, Feliciano turned it over in his palm. His eyes were blurred with tears, but he knew what the inscription said without even looking.

_Jermand schüzenswert._

_Someone worth protecting._

"Qualcuno da proteggere," Feliciano whispered his own translation.

It made sense now. It didn't make losing Ludwig any better. It didn't ease the pain –at least not enough. But at least it all made sense. Ludwig's death had a purpose after all.

_"Mein jermand schüzenswert. My someone worth protecting. It's you."_ That's what he'd said. That's why he was gone now, and Feliciano was still alive.

"Was I worth it, Ludwig?" he asked. He sent his question to the sky. To the stars. To the bottom of the sea. He whispered his inquisition to ears that no longer heard. He reached out to a heart that was no longer beating. Despite these facts, it still felt like he got an answer back. Feliciano pressed the pendant to his chest and let his tears fall.

"Thank you," he said.

The wind blew through his hair and then dropped to skirt briskly over the decks. The jacket on the ground slid forward and curled around the Italian's feet. Ludwig was gone now, but he'd kept his promise. He still was keeping his promise. He would continue to keep that promise for as long as Feliciano lived. Maybe Feliciano wouldn't see him, but he would feel him there, protecting him in spirit. Always, as in forever.

...

Francis stood staring out at the ocean again. He couldn't draw this time. His sketchbook was at the bottom of the ocean, sunken in the salty water, trapped within the remains of Titanic. And his friends…those two people he'd made so many memories with, were gone too. Francis didn't want to accept it.

Gilbert: rambunctious, daring, tough, always up for a challenge, but secretly kindhearted. He'd finally found love. He'd finally found someone to care for, to use that strength for, other than himself. But it was all over. Just like that.

Antonio: cheerful, optimistic, a bit ridiculous at times, and still always grateful for what life gave him. He'd finally realized that he'd had love all along. As soon as he'd started to acknowledge it, his life was cut short.

There was also Ludwig. Francis had never really known him. He'd never been too fond of Gilbert's tightwad older brother. But he'd actually found someone that made him…well, less of a tightwad. Someone to make him happy. Someone to protect who actually wanted his protection. Francis had seen it happening…and then he saw Ludwig die. A life so easily extinguished.

But for some reason Francis was spared. He didn't know why. Not yet. But he'd figure it out. Because if so many beautiful people were taken, but he was left behind, it had to mean something. There was something Francis was supposed to do, and he'd do it. For Antonio, for Gilbert, and for Ludwig. He'd find it.


	23. New York

Chapter 22: New York

April 18th, 1912

9:00 p.m.

Carpathia has arrived in New York City, carrying just over 700 extra passengers whose lives have been changed forever.

...

He was at it again. Roderich had been searching the decks for her over the past three days, but thankfully Elizabeth had managed to hide from him every time. It looked like he'd decided to try one last time. Why wouldn't he just give up? He wasn't the only one getting hurt here. She hadn't forgotten. She hadn't forgotten that final glance, that last time they'd locked eyes. She hadn't forgotten the regret in them, the anguish. She hadn't stopped wondering what it had meant. Elizabeth knew she couldn't go back to him now. Sure there were still questions unanswered and conflicts unresolved, but going back meant being trapped again. Elizabeth couldn't do it. Gilbert wouldn't want it for her, and she didn't want it for herself.

She shielded her face under a woolen blanket in order to hide from Roderich. The scratchy green fabric clung to her face in the moist air, and she was relieved to pull it off as he walked away. It was raining, but she was outside anyway. She wouldn't miss the sight of the Statue of Liberty, in all its glory, as Carpathia floated past. Not only was it beautiful, but it also represented something. It represented Elizabeth's long journey. All the love, all the smiles, all the pain…and the hope. She'd made it to New York; her newfound "wings" had carried her there.

Out of the blue, the rain seemed to stop falling. Elizabeth looked around and quickly realized someone was holding an umbrella over her head. "Can I get your name please, miss?" the young man asked.

Elizabeth nodded. She looked back up at the brightly lit statue above her head, and then gave him the name that was written in her heart. "Beilschmidt. Liza Beilschmidt."

...

As he stepped onto the streets of New York, Roderich pulled the jewels from his coat pocket and raised them to the light. They seemed to have lost their luster; instead of beauty, Roderich saw in them only spine-chilling memories. Several scenes had been replaying in his head all night, whenever he looked at them.

First he'd put them around Elizabeth's neck. He'd draped them there so gently, yet only a few seconds later, he'd treated her so roughly. _"Look at me!"_ he'd demanded. He wanted to see her eyes, to look into them and know for sure how she felt about him.

He'd gotten his wish later, as those same jewels had fallen _off_ her neck. It was then that he'd known. She wasn't his; there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He'd lost her, not only to Gilbert, but also to the sea. She was gone, and the last time he'd seen her running away, he hadn't even said goodbye.

Roderich could also see the memory of fighting for the jewels against Ivan. For some reason Roderich felt like having them back would make it better, but he was wrong. Looking at the jewels made it even worse. It had taken too long for Roderich to realize it. There was no way he could return them now. Roderich hadn't seen Ivan since he'd escaped the sinking without him. He'd left Ivan behind, and for what? For some jewels that were worthless to him now? Ivan surely would've put them to better use, though Roderich hated to admit it.

"Sorry!" someone said as they crashed into Roderich, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Roderich studied the face of the person in front of him, and he thought, for a second, that he was seeing Ivan. But he wasn't. The person he'd run into was a girl, but other than her feminine features, she looked just like him. The resemblance was too uncanny to be a coincidence, and the face of this shorthaired girl reminded Roderich of something Ivan had once said.

_"I have sisters to feed. They're waiting in America for me to bring home money."_

"Excuse me," the girl in front of him said, avoiding eye contact as she tried to shuffle past. For a moment, Roderich considered walking away. He took a step forward, but then stopped. He turned around. She was still there, though getting further and further away by the second. There was only a fraction of a moment left to make a decision. "Wait!" Roderich said.

The girl turned around. Roderich reached her in two long strides. Without saying a word, he looked her in the eyes, placed the jewels in her palm, closed her fingers around it, and ran off.

As expected, the young woman chased after him at first. "Sir! Excuse me! Wait!" she shouted, running closely behind him. Roderich picked up the pace. He ducked between people, dove through the pack, trying to get away before she could ask questions. After a few minutes of this, he turned to see if she was still in pursuit. He wasn't watching where he was going. His shoulder slammed into someone else's.

When he glanced up to see who the second victim of his absentmindedness was, he didn't get long to look. Still, for a second, he had the crazy idea that he was looking into a familiar pair of hazel eyes. One last time, Roderich thought he saw Elizabeth staring him in the face. Before he could even try to decide if it was real, someone else shoved past, blocking his view. When they were gone, so was the imaginary Elizabeth. She had vanished with her jewels. Roderich never saw either of them again.

And so he disappeared into the New York night, carrying with him a story of self-redemption that no one else would ever hear.

...

Getting off of Carpathia was even more hectic than getting on had been. It was scary for Feliciano. He couldn't be sure what his brother was feeling, other than sick. His condition had worsened over the past three days at sea, and he seemed to be running a fever. Feliciano wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't take care of his ailing brother. He didn't have any money, and he didn't even know how to begin looking for a suitable job. He didn't have anywhere to stay and he didn't know anyone in America.

Feliciano managed to lead his brother out of the crowd, and they stood by a newspaper boy, watching people flood off the giant liner. "We made it to New York," Lovino said solemnly.

"A new start," Feliciano added.

It didn't feel like a start. It felt more like the end. The brothers were hushed for a while. "Well, we better get moving," Feliciano said, voice quavering. "We need to find a warm place to stay, right?"

Lovino nodded sleepily, and Feliciano gently touched his hand. It was very warm. Just as he thought –the fever hadn't gone down at all. The anxious little Italian tugged Lovino back into the crowd and they started walking, though they didn't know what they were walking toward. They didn't get far.

"Wait! Feliciano!" both brothers responded to the sound of his name. They turned to see Francis racing toward them.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

Feliciano blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Francis smiled. "Antonio was a good friend of mine. He cared a lot about you. I can't just let the two of you sleep out on the streets," he said. "Now come with me. I'm sure my new restaurant is in need of a little help, no?"

Feliciano smiled gratefully before starting to follow Francis. Now he actually felt a little seed of hope. He had a few dreams. And thanks to Ludwig, Feliciano even had a little courage. It was really time to start anew.

"So is this how you're keeping that promise, Antonio?" Lovino mumbled.

Feliciano turned to his brother, puzzled by what he'd just said. "What?" he asked.

Lovino shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing."

But really, it wasn't "nothing". It was something big, something significant. Even though many had been lost, even though so many were torn from their loved ones, their spirits remained. Their promises were kept. Their love endured, because sometimes, love is just too good to let go.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this! Please let me know if you enjoyed it! :)


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